


Amdir and Estel

by Arinariel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hope, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arinariel/pseuds/Arinariel
Summary: Numenor (Anadune) during the Second Age 3280: The almost complete Temple of Melkor looms over the Golden City of Armenelos. A young noblewoman, navigating the treacherous waters of Ar-Pharazon's court, secretly visits the White Tree against the King's law, a decision that will change her life forever.
Relationships: Isildur/OC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14
Collections: Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2020





	1. The Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work written for TRSB20 challenge. The story is inspired by the artwork, The Temple of Melkor, drawn by Fernstrike who provided me with the description of some of the major characters and the political backdrop of the period. Due to the time limits, it does not fully incorporate everything I had planned (I am a bit of a nerd for details) and the conclusion is rather rushed. But, I hope you can see a glimpse of Numenor as I imagined it. Thank you for reading. :)
> 
> Drawing by Fernstrike is here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/190028576@N08/50286516872/in/dateposted-public/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Giminzil, a young noblewoman, grew up in the court of Ar-Pharazon. But she finds the life at court is not all made of dreams as she once thought.

**Armenelos. Late Autumn. SA 3280.**

**LADY GIMINZIL** of Mittalmar stepped onto the balcony overlooking the King’s courtyard. The newly built temple to Lord Melkor cast a massive shadow over the King’s House. Under the darkness of the temple, Nimloth the White Tree looked pale, even pitiful, far from what it once was.

Once, bright morning sun made golden halos over the white branches of the tree and filled the hallway to the king and the queen’s chambers with the sun’s warm glow tinting the white walls of the palace in golden splendor.

But that was before the construction of the massive dome of the temple. Once the dome topped over the fifty-story construction, it surpassed even the height of the Tower of Elros which had been the tallest structure in the entire Isle of Anadûnê.

“Mistress,” Daira whispered in her accented Adunaic behind Giminzil’s back. “Guards. They don’t like us see.”

Instinctively, Giminzil stepped away from the stone balustrade and into the shadow of the many marble columns.

Below the balcony was the central courtyard where the White Tree had commanded attention for centuries watched over by the two stone sentinels that stood guard over the chambers of the king and the queen.

The stone balcony where Giminzil stood was supported by the two statue’s shoulders while on their other shoulders, there stood round structures which had been private balconies, one for the queen and the other for the king, shut and forgotten. 

Daira pulled Giminzil further in as one of the four guards dressed in the red and black of Lord Zigur’s colors looked up. These days, no one was allowed to go near the tree, or even glance at it. There was a rumor that the king planned to chop it down. But, surely, the queen would not allow that.

“They must have been there all night. Probably too tired to care if we take a look at the tree or not.”

“Guards just changed, mistress. And their Captain will be here soon for inspection. He does not like anyone looking. We go now. Yes?” Daira whispered as if she was afraid the guards would hear.

“Let us stop for just a moment, Daira. The Dollbeni’s girl said the queen wouldn’t be leaving until the third hour, after breaking the fast. We have time.”

Beyond the central courtyard, another balcony stood, this one over a steep cliff. It looked down unto the entire city of Armenelos. The city which would have glowed under the sun was now under the shadow of the temple. Had the King’s Palace not stood on the top of the tallest hill, the temple would have dwarfed the palace completely.

Giminzil leaned into the stone column and gazed at the White Tree.

Although once prized and admired, the twenty-five years of neglect had the White Tree bent and broken. Weeds grew under her feet and bindweeds and vines clung to her slim branches. And each year, the tree bloomed less. This year it hardly bore any fruit.

It tore at her heart to see the tree so forsaken. Giminzil had fond memories of fragrant summer evenings spent under the tree.

On summer nights when the white flowers bloomed, their sweet lilac and rosemary scent perfumed the entire palace. One of Giminzil’s dearest memory of her mother had been under the White Tree during the summer nights, laughing with her mother and Princess Miriel who had been the king’s heir.

The princess had become the queen, but she was not what she once was. She neither had her name nor the scepter.

“Lady,” Daira pulled her further into the corner and into the deeper shadow when the door to the king’s chamber opened.

Giminzil turned to protest when she heard the voice of the king.

“Is that really necessary? I cannot just arrest all of them without a reason.”

“Sire, if you let them oppose you openly, you risk others disrespecting your command. It only takes one rotten apple to spoil the barrel of them.”

“But, they have done nothing. Gathering is not a crime.”

“Had not your grandfather, Ar-Gimilzor, decreed that all Faithful to remove to Romenna? To make their removal easier, you have even provided housings for them, quite generous if I might add, Sire. Still, they remain. Then, have they not disobeyed your command simply by remaining in Andunie, never mind gather? Should they be allowed to disobey your command?”

“Absolutely not!” the king’s words were sharp and biting.

“Then, Eldalondë shall be purged of these rebels. Your Majesty can rest assured that your commands will be obeyed. Perhaps these rebels could be used for the temple.”

“For the temple? How?”

“Remember what I told you, Sire? When the first fire is lit in offering to the Lord of Darkness, the offering must be something precious. The more precious the offering, the more precious the gift. The ultimate sacrifice.”

The king let out a sigh.

“Fire and blood, you said. But are they really necessary?”

“Sire, you have the power and you have the wealth. But you want more than that, do you not? The price for the ultimate reward is high. If it is life you wish, then a life you must give.”

“I had hoped the tree would be enough.”

“Have you decided, then?”

“You know what my uncle foretold, that the tree’s life is bound with that of the King’s House.” The king walked into the balcony and Giminzil pressed herself further into the shadow of the column.

“All decisions rest with you, Sire. I am but your humble servant, here to serve you. But as one of the Maiar who could see beyond, I dare say I know more than your uncle when I say that those are the lies propagated by the Elves. The tree is a reminder to all the Edain that they are the vassals still to the Elves. Don’t you think so, Lady Giminzil?”

Giminzil almost jumped when Lord Zigur, the King's chief adviser, called out to her. She hurried out from behind the shadow and stepped onto the balcony. She bowed low to the king.

The king turned to her. Giminzil could feel her face burn.

“I…uh, I was just on my way to the queen’s chamber.”

“What do you think, lady?” Zigur’s golden eyes probed.

Giminzil bent her head down, breaking the eye contact, hoping no one would hear the frantic pounding of her heart. Lord Zigur had always intimidated her although he had never been anything but kind to her.

“Lord Zigur is wise and knows better than I,” Giminzil said knowing well what was expected of her.

“How is your father?” the king asked.

Giminzil nodded. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. He is well thanks to Lord Zigur." Giminzil turned to the king’s adviser. “Your potions have done wonders, my lord. Vigor has returned to him these days, so much so that he plans to ride to Romenna tomorrow.”

Lord Zigur bent his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Glad to hear your father is doing well,” the king nodded. “So Abrazan is finally back from the ancient lands, is he? Will he come to Armenelos this time?” King said looking across the courtyard to the city that lay before him.

“I do not know, Your Majesty.”

Giminzil knew that before he became the king, Ar-Pharazon and Abrazan fought together in many of the campaigns at Middle Earth. But ever since Prince Pharazon wed his cousin,Princess Miriel, and took the scepter from her hands, her brother had taken commissions across the ocean. He was rarely home, and when he was, he remained in their manor house in Romenna. The last time Giminzil saw her brother, it was six years ago. It was also the last time Abrazan had been at the palace, just before the construction on the temple began.

“Is he still cross with me?” It was spoken so quietly, Giminzil wasn’t sure she heard the king correctly.

“Your Majesty?”

But the king did not look at her. Giminzil followed the king’s gaze which was fixated across the balcony over the White Tree to the city of Armenelos where the sun was rising above the massive dome of the temple.

The dome overlaid with silver caught the sunlight and it was as if the silver dome caught a fiery blaze. Giminzil stood mesmerized by the bright light. The black marbles of the massive temple stood like a torch in the center of the city. Under the blazing sunlight over the silver dome of the temple, the white buildings of Armenelos caught the blaze and glowed as if they were drenched in red.

“It is beautiful,” Giminzil murmured.

“So it is,” said Zigur. “Darkness makes the light shine that much brighter.”

The king turned to his adviser. “Midwinter, did you say?”

“Yes, Sire. The temple should be ready by then for the first offering.”

“Then, we have enough time to discuss it after we return from Hyarnustar.”

“As you command.” Zigur bowed to the king, then with a nod to Giminzil, he left.

Just as Lord Zigur left the king, several courtiers came out of the king’s chamber carrying various documents and hurried away.

The king turned to Giminzil. “I will await the queen at the courtyard.”

“Now, your majesty?”

The king frowned but left without another word.

Two pages followed behind the king. Giminzil grabbed the youngest.

“Weren’t the king and the queen leaving after breaking the fast?”

“No, Lady Giminzil. Both His and Her Majesties will break their fast on the road. Were you not at the meeting at Lord Batan’s office before last night's dinner? Lady Dollbeni said all the attending ladies were there.”

Giminzil turned away feeling the prickle of heat. Dollbeni’s servant had told her the meeting was after dinner. But when she arrived, Lord Batan’s office was closed.

With heavy steps, Giminzil entered the queen’s chamber. The queen was already dressed. The other Ladies-in-waiting to the queen were all there.

“So early, Lady Giminzil,” Dollbeni, the First Lady of the Bedchamber to the queen, said. “Has your slave woman forgotten to give you your messages again?” she snickered. “She should have told you ‘before’ the sunrise, not ‘after.’”

Giminzil dug her hands into her skirt and schooled her features. This wasn’t the first time Dollbeni who was responsible for the queen's schedule gave her a wrong message. Taking a breath, she glanced at the queen whose golden hair was already braided. Dollbeni was placing a heavily bejeweled crown with many gems on the queen’s head attaching a golden silk veil over it. Dollbeni was doing Giminzil’s job.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty.” Giminzil bowed to the queen. “I had been informed you were leaving after breaking the fast.”

“No, Lady Giminzil. The king and the queen will be leaving within an hour,” said Dollbeni. 

The queen hardly glanced in her direction and Giminzil felt panic well up her throat.

“Leave us.” The queen gestured the other ladies. “Lady Giminzil, a word.”

The queen’s attendants left the chamber, Dollbeni leading them. The young woman glanced at Giminzil as she stepped out the door. Giminzil did not miss the silent sneer on her face as Dollbeni tossed her glassy black tresses.

Giminzil faced the queen. She had practically grown up in the court as her mother had been the queen’s closest friend and confidant. But, Giminzil always had her mother beside her. But now she was alone. And the King’s Court which Giminzil had once thought was magical was far from it.

When the chamber door closed, the queen turned to her. Her silver eyes which were steely and emotionless turned into warm gray.

“Giminzil, come sit by me.” The queen touched the seat next to her.

The queen took her hand when Giminzil sat down.

“I know it is hard for you. The loss of your mother, and the sickness of your father. I wish things were different. I wish my father was here, too. I wish…” the queen’s eyes wavered. “I wish things were different, too. The way they used to be…with your mother here, and Abrazan…” her voice trembled, but only a moment. The queen took in a breath, then held up her head high. She was the queen once again, her eyes silver and steely. “But, it is not. And no matter what we do, that is not going to change. You must carry on, Giminzil, and you cannot let yourself slip. Do you understand?”

“But, I…” Giminzil bit her lips, then nodded instead. “I am sorry, Your Majesty.” Whatever she said now, it would only be an excuse.

The queen smiled warmly. “How is your father? Will he be well enough to travel with you to Romenna tomorrow?”

“Yes, Lord Zigur’s potions have been doing wonders. He is feeling so much better. That is good news, except…” Giminzil sighed.

“Is he still insisting you ride in a carriage?” The queen laughed, subdued and stifled, very different from the way she used to laugh when Giminzil’s mother had been at court. The queen smiled less these days and was guarded.

“I am probably the only maiden in the entire Anadûnê who is not allowed to ride.”

Giminzil had not wanted to complain, but the queen’s warm concern reminded her of her mother and the old times. A hot lump lodged in her throat.

“Your father is worried for you, especially with what happened at Romenna six years ago. Be glad, Giminzil. The wind is rather harsh this time of the year, and it is bad for your skin. Besides, more people ride in the carriages these days.” The queen squeezed Giminzil’s hand. “I just wish you were coming with us. Or that I was going with you. It has been a long time since I last have been to Romenna.” The queen sighed and gazed out the window. “Although I don’t know if anyone there would want to see me.”

“Of course, they would want to see you, Your Majesty. You are the most beautiful woman in Anadûnê. Who would not want to see you?” Giminzil squeezed the queen’s hand and smiled.

“When your mother was with me, she would make elaborate braids for me. She was so good with making anything look beautiful.” The queen’s silver eyes misted. “I miss her. I miss her laughter.”

Giminzil’s eyes stung. She dropped her face. Her mother passed away six years ago, too suddenly and too young. And her father had never been the same. After her mother’s unexpected death, he had aged suddenly.

“Giminzil, I need to leave soon. The king waits for me.” The queen sat up straight as if she woke from a dream. She pushed a small glass bottle speckled with gold dust. “Before I leave, I need this refilled. Tell Lord Zigur I need something stronger.”

“My lady, you are beautiful and young. You do not need this.” Giminzil took the bottle reluctantly.

The queen looked at her reflection in the mirror. “There are lines that weren’t there before. I cannot have them, Giminzil. You are the only one I trust. Understand?” The queen folded her hand over Giminzil’s hand holding the bottle. “Now, hurry. And, Giminzil,” the queen turned away. “Your hair is showing.”

Giminzil flushed and pulled at the corner of her red headscarf made to match the red outer robe worn by the queen’s attendants.

“I don’t mind it, but the people….” The queen stopped and faced the mirror again. In the queen’s eyes, Giminzil saw a reflection of gray clouds.

Giminzil did not need to hear. She knew well enough. She hastily adjusted her headscarf before leaving the queen’s chamber.

* * *

 **Armenelos** \--Capital city of Numenor(Anadune in Adunaic, Numenorean tongue. As Elvish was forbidden, to be spoken or taught, characters will refer to Numenor as Anadune except for Sauron).

 **Ar-Pharazon** \--25th and the last king of Numenor. He was the first cousin to Princess Miriel, daughter and heir to Tar-Palantir, the 24th king. He wed Miriel and took the scepter from her, changing her name to Ar-Zimraphel

 **Zigur** \--is the name Sauron was known in Numenor. It means 'Wizard' in Adunaic.

 **Nimloth the White Tree** \--gift of the Elves. The white tree in the courtyard of Minas Tirith in LOTR is a seedling of Nimloth.

 **Romenna** \--One of two largest havens in Numenor. It is the eastern haven and the ships that traveled to Middle Earth left Numenor from here. The other was Eldalondë, the western haven, where Elves of Eressea used to visit when they were allowed to come.


	2. The Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giminzil is asked to enter Lord Zigur's private quarter and is reluctant.

**GIMINZIL** turned to the northern wing of the palace after dismissing Daira. Her maid was overprotective and disliked being away from her side, but Giminzil knew the queen wanted this matter to be private.

Lord Zigur’s residence occupied the entire wing on the other side of the king’s chambers. He had been in Anadûnê for less than twenty years, but he was already the chief adviser to the king. Everybody fawned over him including her father.

The hallway was buzzing, slaves and servants busily carrying trunks and boxes. The king and the queen were to travel today to the vineyards in Hyarnustar. It was an annual trip once the harvesting of grapes completed.

In front of Lord Zigur’s door, Giminzil arranged her headscarf to make sure it fully covered her entire head. As she was about to knock, the door opened and a group of slaves walked out carrying several chests. Behind them Herumor barked orders.

Like herself, Herumor’s father was one of the lords of the six regions of Anadûnê, thus a member of the Council of Sceptre. Upon coming of age, all children of the council members entered the King’s House to serve in the court in either the king’s or the queen’s household. It was said that Lord Zigur handpicked Herumor amongst them for his own office, and as such, many powerful families tried to match him with their daughters as was her father.

“Excuse me, Lady Giminzil. This morning is rather hectic.” Herumor always looked pristine, but this morning, he looked harried.

“You must be looking forward to going home. I certainly was looking forward to visiting your home with the queen.”

“And I was looking forward to showing it to you, but all these schedule changes in the last minute...” Herumor shook his head.

The king and the queen were scheduled to go to Hyarnustar next week upon her return from Romenna, but it had changed last minute to coincide with Giminzil’s trip to see her brother.

“I had to reschedule everything to make this date. Regardless, I wouldn’t be heading home with the others.”

“Aren’t you accompanying Lord Zigur when he goes with the king?”

“I will be accompanying Lord Zigur, yes, but not the king. My master received a notice about the rebels last night. We will be heading to Andustar to deal with them. I will be joining Lord Zigur’s men in the hunt.” Herumor patted the sword by his side. His dark gray eyes shone with glee. Something about it chilled Giminzil, and she shivered.

“I heard they were just gathering. It is not against the law to gather.”

“Giminzil, they are rebels, traitors to the crown. They should be dealt with harshly otherwise you are letting others think it is all right to disobey the king.”

“Is Lord Zigur here?” Giminzil had a sudden desire to get out of here as soon as possible. “I hope he isn't at the courtyard."

Lord Zigur probably wouldn’t leave the palace until after the king and his escort left the palace, but if he was at the courtyard with the king, he wouldn’t be able to fill the bottle for the queen before she left.

“His lordship is inside.” Herumor pulled open the door for Giminzil. She stepped into an airy room with three floor-to-ceiling windows.

Lord Zigur was standing by a window. His hair, bound neatly within the gold clasp of marvelous design, shone like a stream of light cascading down his back. Although golden blond like the king and the queen, Lord Zigur’s hair seemed to have a light of its own. Head taller even than the king, Lord Zigur, with his flawless skin and sculpted features, was the most beautiful man Giminzil had ever met. Yet, there was something about the king’s adviser that frightened her. Giminzil did not know why because he had been nothing but kind to her and generous to her father.

There was a rumor that Lord Zigur was thousands of years old. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He hardly looked more than a young man of one century years in age. Giminzil's father was two hundred and twenty, one of the oldest living men in Anadûnê among those who did not have the royal blood of Tar-Minyatur. It was said that her people had the life span three times that of the normal men from Middle Earth, but very few lived past their two hundredth year these days. Even those from the House of Kings who used to live close to four hundred years in age barely lived past two hundred fifty years.

“My lord?” Giminzil called instead of waiting to be acknowledged, knowing the queen would be waiting for her.

“You are here for the queen?” The adviser gestured for Giminzil to follow as he walked into his inner chamber.

Giminzil had never been invited inside Lord Zigur’s inner chambers, so she hesitated. She glanced at Herumor who had walked in after her, but he was busy giving orders to the slaves who had returned.

She followed the adviser into the room. The sitting room had a golden chaise covered in red silk and few chairs in black. She had expected the room to be much more richly furnished, so the simplicity and the sparseness of the room surprised Giminzil. But Zigur did not stop there, but strode into another door.

Giminzil stopped. Was that his bedchamber? If this was his sitting room, surely that was his bedchamber. It would be very inappropriate for her to be found there alone and without her nurse or other chaperone.

“Her majesty will be leaving soon. I should return to her…,” but Giminzil did not finish when Lord Zigur held the door open gesturing for her to enter.

“Come, Lady Giminzil. I do not have much time this morning.” The adviser smiled, his golden eyes lighting up into deep amber. One corner of his lips pulled up revealing his back teeth, white and sharp. Giminzil felt her cheeks sear.

His eyes, golden like his hair, glittered red from the light coming from the room.

“You want the potion, do you not? It is in here.” He tilted his head toward the room.

Giminzil picked at her lips, a bad habit. Her brother, before he left for the Middle Earth, had warned her to keep her distance from Lord Zigur. Abrazan never told her why. Giminzil’s heart beat wildly.

* * *

 **Council of Septre** \--Advisers to the king which consists of the king's heir and the lords of the six regions of Numenor. They are the most powerful men in Numenor beside the King himself.

 **Hyarnustar** \--one of the 6 regions of Numenor which means southeast lands. It is mountainous in the west with great cliffs on the coasts of west and south. But on the east side, it was warm and fertile. It is known for its great vineyards.

 **Andustar** \--It means westlands and is one of the 6 regions. It is the seat of Lord of Andunie. Eldalonde, located in Andustar, is considered the most beautiful haven of all Numenor. It is where the Elves from Eressea came to visit the Numenoreans when there was friendship between them.

 **Herumor** \--One of two known Black Numenoreans who escaped the destruction of Numenor. He rose to power among the Haradrim 

**Tar-Minyatur** \--Elros, twin brother to Elrond and the first king of Numenor


	3. The Cat and the Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon assesses Giminzil

**MAIRON** scrutinized the young woman as she stepped into his room. He could feel her hesitations. Perhaps it was the hesitation that had caught his attention. Most court ladies were eager for his favor. He knew Giminzil was young, and that may be the reason. But, Dollbeni had entered the court only a year prior to Giminzil. And, that girl was bolder than some of the king’s knights.

Giminzil walked in slowly as if it took an effort for her to walk.

“The queen is about to leave for Hyarnustar, and she waits for the potion. They are leaving any moment.” The girl made a face as she picked at her lips.

Mairon could not help the smile that tugged at his lips. He could imagine what she may be thinking. Men were lascivious compared to the Firstborns, probably the reason why Men multiplied so quickly, unlike the Elves. The same reason why his master interbred Men into the Orcs.

Mairon had expected these Numenorean Men to be more like the Elves, more in control of their physical desires. They married late, had fewer children, and had the strength and will to equal the many Elves. And it seemed some also remained faithful to one spouse. But Men were not Elves. Thank Melkor! They did not have the same control the Elves had over their physical nature and desires which made them so much easier to seduce, tempt and to lead astray.

“Come, lady. I do not bite. Nor do I sleep.”

Keeping the door wide open, Mairon walked into his chamber. It was meant for sleeping, he supposed, but he didn’t need it so the bed had been removed. Only the furniture he absolutely needed remained.

The girl walked in slowly, her body tense as if ready to bolt at the slightest alarm. Something about her reminded Mairon of Rodwen. His heart tightened at the thought of that Elven maid. Mairon took in a quick breath and hardened his heart. No one shall ever have such power over him again. Ever.

The girl’s eyes widened as she gawked at the room which consisted only of a gargantuan desk made of ebony wood. Four tall windows lined the wall behind it illuminating the desk with the morning sunlight.

“I have never seen so much codices.” Her eyes darted over the bookcases then rested on the small chests thrown carelessly on the floor.

Men had a peculiar habit of bringing gems, gold and other valuables when they wanted a favor. And Mairon had found these trinkets useful in enticing other men and women to do his bidding. It was quite strange, really. These men, powerful lords with large estates, already had much in their own treasuries and cellars, yet men never seem to tire of wanting more.

“Are you interested in some of these trinkets?” Mairon picked up one of the elaborate necklaces inside the newly arrived box of jewelry from several members of the Council of Sceptre who wanted Mairon to convince the king to allow other nobles to build their tombs near Meneltarma. Not in Noirinan, the Valley of the Tombs, where only the tombs of the kings and queens were allowed. The tallest mountain in Numenor had five ridges and the nobles hoped to build their tombs alongside those ridges just like the kings did.

These Numenoreans were obsessed with the building of their tombs, and more elaborate and more grand, the better. The more they feared death, more elaborate rituals Men created for their dead. And fears were easy to exploit. And finding these fears and desires became almost a game to Mairon.

“You can have a pick if you wish.” Mairon pushed one of the jewel boxes.

Most of the court ladies, young or old, who were told so were thrilled, but this one rounded her eyes like a rabbit in front of a fox.

“You don’t want it?”

“Why would you offer it to me?”

For the second time, Mairon felt a pull of his lips.

“I have no need for jewels and gems. Yet they keep giving them to me. I thought you may want one. Others seem keen on having them.”

Mairon held out his hand. The girl stepped back, ready to flee.

“Lady Giminzil, you need to give me the bottle for me to fill it.”

The girl blushed fiercely, then fumbled around her pocket before handing the small glass bottle.

There was something about this girl, as insignificant as she was, something in his senses pricked when the girl was near. He didn’t know yet what it was about the girl. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, not like Dollbeni, nor was she particularly brilliant like Herumor. But, something pulled at him. And Mairon trusted his senses.

“Do you want to watch?” Mairon did not know why he asked.

The girl nodded.

Mairon picked up one of the glass bottles on his desk. He whistled a tune, filling the chamber with unearthly music as he uncorked the empty bottle. The girl’s eyes filled with wonder as she watched, open-mouthed.

The liquid glowed opalescent as the drop from the jar flowed out into the glass bottle and filled it to the brim.

“It’s magic!” she whispered, her eyes filled with wonder. “Is this why they call you the ‘wizard’?”

“That is my name.” Numenoreans called him ‘Zigur’ which meant ‘wizard’ in their tongue. Men lacked imagination, no doubt.

The girl smiled widely for the first time since she stepped into the room.

“You make magic potions that erase the marks of age in one’s face and give vigor to the aging bodies. What else can your magic do, my lord?”

“The better question, lady, is what do you desire?”

Giminzil’s hand swept her hair bound in a silk scarf.

Mairon remembered now why she caught his eyes the first time he saw her. She was a familiar face within the inner court as a child of Lady Inzil, the queen’s confidant, the first one the king had asked him to take away from the queen’s side. The king had insisted it had to be done in a way no one could fault anyone. It was too easy a task for Mairon, a simple wave of his hand to make the woman tumble down the marble stairs. A simple ‘accident’ in front of everyone, but it had impressed the king. But, the reason Mairon remembered the woman’s child was because of her white hair.

Most Numenoreans had either a dark hair or golden hair like the king and the queen. Mairon had never met a child of Men who had a silver hair. But, then, Lady Inzil was a distant relation to the king and the queen. She had blood of Elros in her, however minuscule. Somehow the Sindarin portion of Elros’ blood showed through this girl making her very Elvish in appearance. Once, it may have made the girl look attractive to others, but now, these Numenoreans hated anything Elven.

“Perhaps I can give you a gift,” Mairon drawled, but the girl’s interest was elsewhere.

Mairon turned to the girl. Her eyes were drawn to a bowl of silver fruits, the ones produced by Nimloth the White Tree that Mairon had ordered his guards to gather. They were silver and shiny, just slightly larger than the biggest acorns. Mairon had meant for those fruits to fall and rot on the ground, but something had him gather all the fruits on the tree and even those on the ground. He did not know why. If he had his way, he would uproot the White Tree today. But that order had to come from the king. The tree was the symbol of friendship between the Men and the Elves. How much more devastating it would be if it was the hand of Men that had uprooted and burned that symbol? Men to whom the Elves had given their hearts.

The girl looked up. She blinked, her rain-cloud eyes wide and questioning.

“If I can give you anything, what would you like?”

The girl’s eyes swept the silver fruits, but her hand reached for her head again.

She was a willowy thing, ephemeral and ethereal at the same time. There was something definitely Elven about her. The rage he had felt at Celebrimbor’s betrayal suddenly reared, and Mairon took in a sharp breath to calm the fire. He had a sudden desire to break her, shatter and hurt her.

“You want to be like everyone else, do you not?”

Her eyes widened for a second, then she dropped her head. But, she nodded.

He took a step towards her and she stepped back, but he did not reach for the headscarf. With an imperceptible move of his hand, the headscarf came undone. The young woman grabbed her head, but her long hair tumbled down from her head.

It was the first time Mairon had seen the hair this close. He had thought the hair white like some of the Sindar he had seen, but Giminzil’s hair was not white. Instead, it was a paler version of Celeborn of Doriath who had hair like melted silver. And the memory of Celeborn stirred even more of his memory of Celebrimor who had cheated him of the three rings which he had coveted the most. And with it, the memory of his failure to bring the Elves under his power.

The girl stepped back grabbing hold of her hair. At the same time she reached for her scarf which fell on the top of the bowl containing the silver fruit.

“I… I’m so…sorry.” The girl stammered. “Please excuse me, my lord. The queen waits for me.” With that, the girl ran out of the chamber.

Mairon picked up one of the silver fruits and tore into the silky flesh. The fruit burst in his mouth and the red juice escaped down his lips. The fruit tasted bitter in his mouth, but Mairon did not care. He will spare no one. Not one man, woman or a child.

* * *

 **Melkor** \--The original Dark Lord and Sauron's master. He is the Devil himself and is known as the Lord of Darkness

 **Celeborn of Doriath** \--husband of Galadriel

 **Celebrimbor-** -grandson of Feanor. He and the Elven smiths or Eregion made the rings of power under the tutelage of Sauron. The three most powerful rings (three Elven rings of power in LOTR) among them were untouched by Sauron and were hidden. Sauron never found them.

 **A/N:** Rodwen mentioned by Sauron is my OC from another fanfiction, What It Means to be a King. The story of their relationship, if you can call it that, is in Gold Rings and Green Woods, Part2 of that story and is not yet posted.


	4. The Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awoken from a dream she could not remember, Giminzil goes against the king's edict and goes to see the White Tree in secret.

**GIMINZIL** tossed woken by dreams she could not remember. The silver moonlight filled her chamber bathing everything in pale gray. She got out of her bed and picked up a small jewelry box. The silver fruit of Nimloth sat nestled among the blue silk. She had coveted one of them the moment she saw them, but she had been torn when Lord Zigur asked what she wanted. And she really did not mean to steal one. But when she grabbed her headscarf, she had also grabbed one of the fruits.

Another of what she had loved in this world was disappearing. To think that she will never see the White Tree again. The pain she had felt at the sudden loss of her mother cut a painful path through her heart.

Giminzil clutched the fruit to her heart. The longing for her mother crashed onto her like ocean waves. Grabbing a woolen shawl by her bed to wrap it over her head and shoulders, Giminzil left her bedchamber with a glow stone in her hand.

Her nurse, Zoreth, slept on a small bed just outside Giminzil’s bedroom door. Zoreth slept like a deaf dragon, snoring loudly. But Daira was sharp eared. Giminzil glanced at the fireplace where her maid slept on a small bedroll next to the hearth. The bedroll was empty. It was rather late for her maid to be running about, but it was not the first time for Daira to be missing.

With everyone gone with the king and queen, there was no one she had to mind once she left her own chamber, but Giminzil looked about to make sure no one was looking before she stepped into a narrow passage hidden behind a large painting of Queen Inzilbeth, the current queen’s grandmother, in the common room she shared with other ladies-in-waiting. 

The queen said it was one place the king did not know. Only the ruling sovereign knew the entire layout of these secret passages which were built into the King’s House. According to her mother, when a king prepares to cede the throne to his heir, he would pass many secrets known only to the new sovereign, among them the layout of these passages. The queen was the true heir to the throne and the secrets of the passages had passed to her and not to Ar-Pharazon, her husband and their current ruling king. The fact that Giminzil’s mother knew of it showed how much the queen trusted her. But her mother’s knowledge of these passages was limited to the ones she used to visit the queen in secret and to the chamber by the courtyard where Nimloth grew.

Giminzil wondered why Lord Zigur thought it important to station these guards through the night. Everyone knew that the king forbade people from approaching the tree. Even if it was not forbidden, no one cared about the tree these days.

It was one of the many things she wondered about but knew enough not to question. Perhaps even thinking about it was wrong.

The narrow passage ran behind the walls splitting into right and left passages. The right turn would take her to the passage behind the queen’s sitting room. The left gave access to one of the sealed balconies built over the shoulders of the two statutes. According to her mother, they were for the kings and the queens to enjoy the beauty of Nimloth. But with time, they fell out of use. And during the reign of Ar-Adunakhor, almost four centuries ago, access to these balconies were sealed and their uses forgotten.

The fact that Ar-Gimilzor, the queen’s grandfather, allowed his wife, Queen Inzilbeth, to use this forgotten chamber in private was a testament to his love for his wife despite his harsh policies against the Elves and the minority of people known as the ‘Faithful’ who clung to the ancient traditions taught by the Elves.

Giminzil always wondered why Tar-Palantir, the queen’s father, never opened these secret chambers during his reign. He was known sympathizer of those rebels. He could have unsealed the balconies again, but he never did.

Under the faint light of the glow stone, Giminzil found the hidden knob her mother had shown her which opened the door into the sealed balcony. What had once been an open structure was now a sealed chamber behind elaborate stone arches decorated with delicate traceries. Above the arch, a large circular opening allowed moonlight to illuminate the small chamber.

Avoiding the moonlit areas, Giminzil approached the ornamental openings behind the statute through which she could see the courtyard below.

As she did so, the bell at the Tower of Elros rang, signaling midnight.

There were only two guards at the courtyard, one at each gate leading to the courtyard on each side of the statutes. When the sound of the last bell subsided, one of the guards moved over to the guard at the other side.

“Where are they?”

The other guard shrugged. They looked back at the open gate behind them.

“It’s getting rather chilly,” one of them said rubbing at his arms. “I could use some warm ale right about now.”

Keeping her wary eyes on them, Giminzil leaned onto the stone banister, hoping to catch the fragrance of the tree. On summer nights, Nimloth bore white blooms filling the entire palace with its fragrant lilac and rosemary scent. But it was late autumn. Only the sparse silver leaves that had not fallen yet clung to the last remnant of the moonbeam in the courtyard.

“You two, come and get some wine,” a guard walked in from the open gate. 

“Where’s your partner? Aren’t you going to relieve us?”

“Yes, yes. After a sip. Come join us. Captain wouldn’t be making his rounds until just before dawn.”

“We shouldn’t be drinking,” other guards said.

“What harm is there? Is the tree going to run away, or a rebel come to steal it over that cliff?” the guard pointed to the far side of the courtyard. “By the Holy Mountain, if he can carry the tree, I would let him take it.”

“But, Lord Zigur said—”

“His lordship is not here and us drinking few sips is not going to affect anything.”

“I suppose one cupful wouldn’t hurt. Where did you get the wine?” The two guards followed the new guard into the gate.

“Some slave woman was roaming around with it…” The sound of their voices died down into a murmur and only the rustle of leaves filled the courtyard.

Giminzil glanced at the stone balcony built over the cliff when she noticed a shadow.

At first it was just a movement caught in her vision. Then, it was a shape of a man donned all in black. He climbed over the balcony then brought up a rope. For a long time he hid among the bushes in the flowerbeds lining the wall.

Giminzil glanced at the gate where she could hear the faint laughter of the guards.

Giminzil turned to the flowerbeds. Slowly, the man scooted down, staying in the shadows. Had she not been looking down at the courtyard, she would not have known he was there.

Keeping close to the ground, the man moved over to the base of the White Tree, then looked up.

The moonbeam bounced off the silver of the tree limbs and they glowed white under the moonlight.

Giminzil realized she was holding her breath as the man who had scanned each branch bent low and started to paw the ground. And then she knew what he was looking for. He was looking for the fruit of the tree.

For a moment, Giminzil was torn. Should she alert the guards? What the man was doing went against the King’s law. But then, so was she. How would she explain her presence to the guards? Calling the guards meant revealing the existence of the secret chamber. She may never get further opportunities to use the chamber again.

Her heart pounded. Giminzil glanced at the gate again. One of the guards came out of the gate.

“I’m going to take a look around.”

With her hands on her mouth, she looked toward the man by the tree. The man shrank into the bushes when the guard passed.

 _Leave now. While the guards are not looking_ , silently Giminzil prayed.

But, the man returned to where the tree stood as soon as the guard passed him. He was pawing the ground again.

Giminzil wished she could tell the man that there were no more fruits of Nimloth. Then, she caught herself. The man was probably a rebel, one who didn’t believe in the king and his laws. She was supposed to be a model for other youths of the land as one of the children of the Council of Sceptre.

 _I’ll just go down to the courtyard and alert the guards_ , Giminzil told herself when she saw the guard who had passed the tree and into the other gate returned.

“Who goes there!”

In one smooth motion, the man got up and lunged. Something flashed in his hand.

“No!” Giminzil screamed without meaning to. And the guard fell.

Giminzil’s scream rent the silence. The three guards from beyond the gate rushed into the courtyard and saw the man as he dragged the body to the bushes. The guards surrounded the man with their weapons drawn.

But, the man was skilled with his sword. His sword flashed and shone with deadly precision in the light of the moon, and two more guards fell. But, the intruder wasn’t quick enough.

“Intruder! Rise! Rise!” shouted the last guard and blew his horn before the man reached him. As the last guard fell, warning bell rang through the palace.

The man looked up. He twirled something in the air and sent it straight to the circular opening in the balcony. Then as Giminzil watched stunned, he ran, then leaped into the air, climbing up the body of the statute, and jumped down from the circular opening onto the floor of secret chamber.

When the dark figure of the man stood up, Giminzil who had been frozen where she stood screamed. She scrambled to get out of the hidden chamber. All the alarm bells were ringing now, and among the din of the alarm bells, the floor of the room trembled as the silence of the night shattered.

“Intruder! Guards! Guards!”

A shout erupted from all quarters. 

Forgetting the secret nature of the chamber, Giminzil banged on the stone walls of the chamber and opened her mouth to cry out for help when a powerful hand pulled her away from the wall.

Fear knotted her body as the man’s hand pressed firmly over her mouth, his other arm drawing her tight against him.

“Quiet!” the man hissed. “Stay quiet, and I won’t hurt you. I give you my word.”

Giminzil’s heart boomed as the shout of the guards passed the wall of the secret chamber. The man pulled her against the shadow of the wall and looked out of the opening behind the statue. She tried to move, but his arms drew her more tightly to him. Pulling at the man’s hand, Giminzil looked down at the scene before her.

Courtyard was lit like daylight and guards swarmed the area.

“Couldn’t have gone too far. Search everywhere. Close all the gates. Alert the guards at the ramparts!” the one Giminzil knew as the captain of the Palace Guards shouted orders.

The fallen guards were groaning as they were carried out, but eventually, all the guards moved out. There wasn’t a place to hide in the courtyard except the bushes, and it was apparent that the guards did not know the existence of the sealed balconies on the shoulders of the statutes.

As soon as the sound of the guards faded away, the man slackened his hold over her.

“Promise me you will not scream, and I will let go,” the man whispered.

Giminzil looked up at the man. She was among the tallest of the ladies at court, but this man stood easily a head taller than her. Covered with dark clothes, she could not make out much of his face except his eyes which glinted like blades under the moonlight.

“Promise me,” the man hissed.

Giminzil nodded.

The man’s hand over her mouth loosened, and he let her go. Slowly.

The man took a step back from her. Giminzil bolted toward the door. He grasped at her head taking the shawl off her.

Her hair flew all around. Giminzil clutched at her hair, more out of instinct than anything else. Her hair glowed in the moonlight glinting faintly in the semi-darkness.

Giminzil grabbed the door and yanked it open, but the man shut it closed with a bang.

“Silmë, please!”

Giminzil gasped as she turned around to face him. No one knew her Elven name except her mother and brother.

“What did you call me?”

The silver gleam of the moonlight shone through the circular opening above and the whole room was submerged in the silver glow. The man put away his sword and pulled away the dark scarf he had used to cover his face and mouth.

Giminzil blinked. She knew that face. Although the room was too dark for her to see the color of his eyes, she remembered them to be clear and deep gray like the winter sea. She had seen him only once. Six years ago. But, she had never forgotten him. He alone of all others had told her that her hair was beautiful.

“Please, Silmë. Don’t call the guards. For my sake, for your sake and for the sake of others.”

Behind the wall, she heard a clink clank of metal armor.

“I thought I heard something,” someone said.

“Are you sure? We just passed here. I didn’t see anything,” another man said.

Giminzil knew she just needed to call out one more time. Her heart pounded like the hooves of the running horses.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing here. We better find the culprit before Lord Zigur returns or we will be in a whole lot of trouble.”

The guards walked away.

The man took in a quick breath, then leaned against the wall behind him.

“You…you are that man from Romenna.” Giminzil’s heart thumped again, but not out of fear.

The man smiled, his teeth flashing pearlescent under the moonlight. “You remember me.”

“You saved me. Of course, I remember you.”

She had never forgotten him. Six years ago, her brother left for another voyage to Middle Earth. Giminzil had gone to Romenna to place _Oiolaire_ , the Green Bough of Return, on her brother’s ship as was the custom.

She had turned twenty-five years old, her coming of age. But, it was a difficult year for her family as her mother who had an accident passed away from her injury. Giminzil had gone down to the beach without an escort when her headscarf blew away. There were some angry people who thought she was Elven. She had been surrounded by the angry mob and terrified, but the man had shown up unlooked for, broke up the crowd and had taken her back to her brother.

Now that she thought about it, her brother had seemed to know the man, but she had been too terrified by the incident to question her brother about him. And before she knew it, her brother had left Anadûnê.

“You know my brother?” Otherwise, how did he know her name that only her mother and brother used. “And why are you here at the courtyard which is forbidden?”

Instead of answering, the man hissed. He pulled open the long jacket he wore. Giminzil gasped. The shirt he wore under the jacket was wet.

“Is…is that blood?” Giminzil’s throat clenched as unfamiliar metallic scent filled the chamber.

It was then that the door to the secret entrance rattled. The man took out his sword, then stood up. He put a finger over his mouth and pulled Giminzil to a wall behind him.

“No one knows this place except the queen,” Giminzil whispered realizing that the man knew exactly where the chamber was located.

The door creaked open slowly. The man tensed, raising his sword for a strike. Giminzil held her breath.

Someone peered over the crack of the open doorway.

“Lord?” a person whispered in a thick accent, opening the door wider.

The man relaxed.

Giminzil could not speak until her handmaid walked into the chamber holding a bundle in her arms.

“Daira? How? Why? Were you following me?” Giminzil asked her maid, stepping forward. Daira’s eyes rounded as she shrank into the door.

“How did you know about this chamber?” Giminzil asked again.

Daira pointed to the man. “Lord.”

“You know my maid, and she knows you? What is going on here?” Giminzil looked up at the man. “And how do you know this chamber.? No one knows this room except my mother and the queen.”

“I knew the previous queen who had used this room,” the man said.

“Who?” Giminzil’s head hammered. “Were you working with this man, Daira?” Giminzil looked at Daira then at the man.

Her maid was a slave her brother had given her for her coming of age present before he left for Middle Earth. Abrazan had made her promise to take Daira with her when she entered the court. Had her mother lived, and her father’s health did not fail, she would have entered the court upon reaching her twenty-fifth birthday just after Abrazan left.

Giminzil had treated the slave like an older sister she never had.

“No, mistress. I just help.” Tears fell down on Daira’s scarred face, but Giminzil turned away from her maid.

Heat rose swarming in her stomach. She turned to the man as breath stifled and swirl of something hot filled her heart. Something Daira said this morning came to Giminzil’a head.

“How do you know Daira. What is your connection to her? Was she spying for you?” Giminzil turned to Daira. She thought she knew everything about her maid. “Why, Daira? Is that why you knew the schedule of the guards? You were spying for this man?”

Daira’s lips trembled as she dropped her head. “No spy. Lord help. I help lord.” she looked up at Giminzil as she trembled before her.

“It is not her fault.” The man cut in before Daira could say more. He groaned then spoke, teeth clenched. “We asked for her help and she couldn’t refuse. She didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to bring you trouble. But if my plan worked, you wouldn’t have known about it. And I did not know you would be here tonight or that you even knew this room existed.”

“Who are ‘we’? Is…is my brother involved in this?” It was the only thing that made sense. But why?

The man met Giminzil’s gaze with unwavering calm.

“I will tell you all if you help me. More is at stake than it seems.”

Giminzil stared down at the man. How could her brother be involved in breaking into the palace? Abrazan was loyal to the king. Even after the decision to build a temple which her brother was vehemently against, Abrazan had remained loyal as far as she knew. But if he was involved in penetrating the King’s House against the King’s law, then was he now one of the rebels?

“Will you help me, lady, or doom me? My life and the life of my family and the White Tree that symbolizes this great nation are in your hands.”

“Do you even know what you are asking me? Or what trouble you will bring to my family?” Had not the man saved her last time, she wouldn’t even entertain listening to him. Rebels were traitors. They were not to be trusted.

The man’s eyes held hers. “If there was any other way…” the man clenched his teeth and bit down a hiss, grabbing his side. Something dark seeped between his fingers. He grimaced and leaned back on the wall

The man’s sword slipped off his hand as the man leaned against the wall. His injury was not light. Although not a healer, Giminzil could tell by the ghostly white of the man’s face. It would be easy to escape him now. But, if she were to report him to the guards, would the man incriminate her brother? Should she betray the man who had helped her in her time of need? Giminzil clenched her fists.

“Daira, go get Zoreth.”

“But…” the maid’s eyes widened and filled with fear.

“If you want to see him live, go get her now.”

Stretched on the floor of the narrow chamber, the man seemed even bigger than Giminzil thought. Next to Zoreth, no less. Her nurse was a big-boned woman who was as tall as any man. Even older than her father, her nurse carried a lot of weight around her middle. Still, she was nimble of hands and feet despite her age and size.

“He is bleeding much. But he is strong. If we could get him to a healer, he’ll have a chance,” Zoreth said when she was done binding the man’s waist. 

“But, I cannot take him to the infirmary here at the court.”

“No, child. You’ll have to take him to Romenna.”

“Are you mad, Zoreth?” Giminzil looked at her nurse as if the old woman had lost her mind. She has already helped him enough, but Zoreth looked up at her steadily.

Zoreth had been her mother’s maid, and the only one still living who had come from her mother’s house when her mother married her father. Giminzil trusted Zoreth as much as she trusted her mother, but her nurse obviously did not know how dangerous getting involved with a rebel was.

“I can’t take him to Romenna. He helped me once, and I want to return the favor, but take him all the way to Romenna?”

“We must,” Zoreth said. “This young man is Lord Amandil’s grandson. Lord Amandil is a distant relation to your mother who helped her many times when she was in need.”

“What?” Giminzil rounded her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Child, I may be old, but I remember the face of every member of the royal family and all the lords of the Council of the Sceptre. This one is elder of Lord Elendil’s two sons. They used to be frequent guests in the court during the time of Tar-Palantir. The queen and Lord Elendil grew up together.”

“But, why would Lord Amandil’s grandson try to sneak into the palace?”

The man groaned again and sat up. “Because I need to obtain the fruit of Nimloth before they destroy her.”

Zoreth’s face turned pale. The nurse shook her head. “Ridiculous. The queen would never allow anyone to harm the tree.”

“When did the queen had a say? Why had she said nothing while they built that black temple?” the man’s voice was bitter.

Giminzil thought back to what she had heard in the morning.

“There are no more of the fruit. Lord Zigur had all of them picked. He keeps them in his chambers, and his rooms are inaccessible when he is not here.”

The man shook his head. “There must be at least one he missed. Perhaps on the ground.”

“Lord Zigur is meticulous. He wouldn’t have missed any.”

The man shook away Zoreth’s hand and sat up. “But, I need to try. I risked everything. There must be at least one.” The man tried to get up.

“You can’t. Not in your condition. You’ll be lucky to even get out of the palace. Have you not heard the alarm bells?”

“I cannot leave. Not until I have the fruit.” There was determination in the man’s voice.

The man got up, then swayed. Giminzil took his arm to steady him.

“If you get caught, your whole family will suffer for it. Will that be all right with you?”

The man squeezed his eyes shut, but he sat down again. The look of heavy grief on the man’s face tugged at Giminzil’s heart. But she had kept the fruit as a memento of her mother. If she gave it away, she was sure that she would never see its kind again.

“How did you even plan to get out of the palace even if you were successful?” Giminzil asked the man. He glanced at Daira.

Daira shrank away, holding tighter to the bundle in her arms.

Giminzil frowned down at her maid. “What do you have there, Daira?”

“It was my plan,” the man said. “I was supposed to disguise as one of your father’s guards, escorting you and him to Romenna.”

“You would have risked my family in this man’s scheme?”

“No one was supposed to know. I would have just grabbed the fruit and would have gotten down the cliff if it wasn't for the alarm, but in the event I couldn't I hope to hide out here, change into your father’s guard uniform and help your maid with some of the luggage down to the carriage. We would have left the palace with no one the wiser.”

“Well, you certainly cannot do that in your condition,” Giminzil frowned down at the man. “And with four guards attacked and injured or dying…”

“I didn’t hurt them. I used the back of my sword. I hurt them enough to knock them out.”

“The bigger question, my lord, is how will you get out of here. All the guards are aroused.”

“Leave that to me, child,” Zoreth said as she heaved herself up.

* * *

 **Ar-Adunakhor** \--20th King of Numenor and the first to take his royal name in Adunaic instead of Quenya, the language of the Elves, which was the tradition. His name means 'Lord of the West' which is what people referred to Manwe, the king of Valar, thus blasphemous and in direct challenge to Manwe himself.

 **Queen Inzilbeth** \--mother of 24th king, Tar-Palantir. She was a sister (niece, depending on what you read) to 15th Lord of Andunie. She was one of the Faithful, but as she was one of great beauty, Ar-Gimilzor (23rd king) married her. Tar-Palantir (current queen's father) was influenced by his mother and repented the actions of the prior kings who in pride turned against the Valar and the Elves.

 **Tar-Palantir** \--24th king and the father of the current queen (Miriel). He was known to have prophetic sight.

 **Oiolaire** \--fragrant evergreen tree brought by the Elves as a gift to Numenor. It was a custom of the Numenoreans to have a bough of the tree hung upon the ship leaving the port of Romenna as a good luck


	5. The Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isildur rides in the carriage with Giminzil and finds that he is wounded more severely than he originally thought.

**ISILDUR** let out a sigh of relief once he stepped onto the carriage. Nothing had gone the way he had planned, but he was still alive and the guards did not seem to guess at his identity which was a relief.

But he was leaving without the fruit. And he had risked a lot for it. He could already imagine what his grandfather or father would say. They did not believe in taking action, any action, that was remotely against the king. He could imagine the lectures. But worse, what would Abrazan say? Isildur was supposed to wait for him and not do anything ‘rash.’ But he had not been rash. Had he waited for Abrazan to arrive at Armenelos, a week and half later, it was possible that either the king or Sauron would have returned to the palace. It would have made it that much harder to accomplish what he intended with any one of them inside the King's House.

He knew changing their plan at the last minute could backfire, but circumstances changed when the king and Sauron left a week early. 

But, to leave the palace without getting what he came for…if only he wasn’t wounded. He had already asked Daira to risk too much, and he could not ask the young lady. Isildur glanced at the woman through the veil. He had solemnly promised Abrazan that he wouldn’t involve his sister in any way. _Damn it all._

Still, if Sauron kept the fruits of the tree, there was a chance. He had to believe that there would be another chance when he was well enough to try again. _Amdir_. Isildur reminded himself. _Look up. Think positively_. He breathed in. _Estel_. _Trust._ He will trust that things will work out.

He let out a long breath.

The young woman sitting across from him looked up. She tried not to show it, but he could see the corners of her lips quiver ever so slightly upward. Her obvious amusement made him remember what the three women had done. He had tried to protest, but he had been too weak to fight them.

_Dammit. Anarion will never let me forget this when he finds out about this. Dear Eru!_

“You can take off your veil now,” the girl tossed her head tightly wrapped in silk fabric. He missed the sight of her beautiful hair, but it was apparent that she did not share his sentiment.

“Who knew her great size would come in so handy?” With obvious laughter in her voice, the young woman looked at him as if he should agree.

Isildur tried to think how old she was. Last time he found her surrounded by the angry mob, she was twenty-five, hardly more than a girl.

But now, the past six years had filled her up in all the right places. Isildur marveled at what six years can do for a woman. Beside her obvious physical changes, the young woman had turned out very different from the scared young girl he found among the angry group of ignorant people.

The past few hours were trying even for him, and he had faced battle fields and stormy seas. This young woman would have known nothing but peace and affluent life. Yet, she had handled what happened last night with calm and poise he had not expected to see in a young lady of a noble family. Most of them he had met were either too soft, too proud, or too needy. Anarion's wife was an exception. Probably why his brother married so early.

Isildur glanced at the young woman again. He had not expected to see her again, and had been completely surprised to find her at the secret balcony.

He had planned it carefully. He was supposed to use the slight opening during the change of the guards, then climb back down the cliff. If something went wrong and he could not escape that way, he was to hide out in the secret chamber until commotion died out.

Just then, he remembered that he left Daira's rope at the secret chamber. It shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t imagine the queen making an issue of it even if she found it, if she ever went there.

Isildur had been at the secret chamber only once as a child with Dowager Queen Inzilbeth. He and his younger brother Anarion had accompanied his grandfather to the King’s House. While playing hide and seek with Anarion, he ran into the Dowager Queen emerging from behind a large portrait. She had shown him the secret chamber saying it was the best place to watch the White Tree. He had promised her to keep it a secret. Isildur had not known that there was another person who knew about the room other than their current queen.

Sudden pain stabbed through his wound, and Isildur clenched his back teeth to prevent a hiss. There was something wrong with his injury. He had been stabbed many times on the battle grounds of the Middle Earth. But this one felt different.

“I don’t think anyone suspected. Don’t you think that is a good thing?” the young woman smiled.

“We are not even out of the palace yet, lady. It is too early to celebrate.”

But, more importantly, Isildur worried whether the girl’s nurse could do what he had asked of her. That woman was very old and very big.

“Will your nurse be able to slip out without the notice of the guards?” Isildur asked.

He needed someone to pick up the palantir that he had hidden just outside the palace walls. He had taken two of the smallest palantiri without his grandfather’s knowledge.

Isildur had known that he was taking a lot of risk. He had not told his family where he was going or what he planned. Isildur had left one of the two seeing stones with Abrazan. In the event things went wrong, he needed a way to communicate with his friend and mentor. If anyone could get him out of trouble, Abrazan would. He always did. And the stone could not fall into someone else's hands, especially to Sauron. Even the thought of that possibility chilled him.

“Zoreth is an old dragon,” the young lady said. “She knows more about the palace and the people in it better than anyone I know. She will find that thing for you and do what you asked of her. At least, she has never failed me.”

“You have a lot of confidence in that old woman.”

“She is old and she is slow, but she is nimble of mind. She will not fail you.”

The girl seemed convinced although he wasn’t so sure. He winced when a sharp pain radiated through his injured side.

“How is your injury?” The girl leaned forward. Young as she was, the lady didn’t miss much.

“It’s bearable.”

It was then that the carriage slowed then stopped.

Both of them looked out the window. They were at the palace gate. One of the guards was talking to an elderly nobleman who Isildur guessed is the young woman’s father.

“Do you know who I am?” the nobleman grumbled.

“I apologize to your lordship,” the guard said. “But, I was told to check every carriage that passes through the gate. There was an intruder last night.”

“Yes, I have heard of it, lieutenant,” the elderly man stared down at the young guard. “But you know who I am, don’t you? And this is my carriage with my daughter.”

“If you do not allow us to search the carriage, my lord, then I have to report it to Lord Zigur when he returns” Someone walked over. He was dressed in the red and black captain’s uniform Isildur knew to belong to Sauron’s guards.

Isildur cursed under his breath as he moved away from the window. He had hoped that they would be able to leave the palace easily because he was in a carriage that belonged to the Lord of Mittalmar who ruled over the city of Armenelos. But these days, even the Lords of the Sceptre bowed down to Sauron.

“Fine! You may do what you must, but it is only my daughter and her servant.”

Sauron’s captain gestured to the lieutenant of the palace gate.

“Take off your veil.” The girl whispered to Isildur when the guard approached the carriage. “We don’t usually wear a veil inside the carriage.”

Isildur took off the veil and arranged the deep blue velvet dress with white laces on the sleeves and the neckline. The girl and her nurse had chosen the most frivolous of the nurse’s dress to put on him. And that wasn’t the only thing.

The young guard apologized before glancing at his dress and face. Isildur tensed. Despite his fervent refusal, the three women wrestled him to apply thick paste all over his face and painted his lips, eyes and brows. He was too weak and in too much pain to fight them. When the women gave him a mirror to check himself, he didn’t recognize himself. Still, the paste made it obvious that his face was painted. Would not the guard see through all this muck?

 _Just act normal, stupid._ Berating himself, Isildur forced a smile at the guard feeling the heaviness of his painted lips. The young guard blushed as he apologized again.

The carriage passed through the gate, and Isildur sat back against the cushion with a sigh.

“Are you not glad, lord, that Zoreth insisted on putting make-up on your face now? It is the most fashionable thing among women these days.”

Isildur could not help the growl that escaped his lips. He took off the gloves and wiped off the red lip stain with the back of his hand.

“Wait. You shouldn’t erase anything until we are completely out of the view of the city. We never know, you know.” The girl’s eyes sparkled as her lips trembled upward. 

“You are having fun at my expense, aren’t you?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know what you mean.” She looked up at him with an innocent expression as if she could fool him. He turned away.

They rode in silence until they were passing the temple. Up close, the black marble building was colossal. As the carriage rode past the building leaving Armenelos, Isildur craned his neck far back to look up at the silver dome.

“It is so beautiful,” the girl murmured when the sunlight ignited the silver dome into a blaze of white light.

“Do not let the outside beauty blind you to the darkness it holds. You see the shadow it casts over the King’s House and the entire city?” He pointed to the dark shadow the temple cast.

The girl scoffed. “The King’s House sits on the west side, so it is normal for the building to cast a shadow. That is to be expected. I am talking of the architecture, the amount of ebony, marbles, gems and skill that was used to build it. It is the epitome of our people’s skill.”

“Wealth and power combined can mesmerize, but it cannot hide the corruption that lies underneath. But then, when the king discards his own morals and works with the lieutenant of the Darkness to embrace the lies, it is hard to expect the people to see beyond that.”

“Do not speak ill of the king.” The young woman frowned. “And you are maligning his chief adviser. Lord Zigur has done nothing but assist the king to bring wealth and prosperity to our great nation.”

Isildur tamped down the sudden heat in his stomach. He was aware of how the King and Sauron worked to influence the minds of the people, especially the youth of the nobles. The children of the nobles were taught from an early age to spread the lies formed by the King’s Men to further the king’s agenda.

“If I speak ill of the king, it is because instead of leading our great nation, he is destroying it.”

“The king has brought us wealth and peace. You do not hear of the many conflicts I heard so much of during the reign of our previous monarch, do you? And we are greater than we have ever been. We are bringing knowledge and wisdom to those savages in the outer world while we increase wealth. Everyone is wealthy now. We have so much more now than we ever have. But, then you rebels do not care about that.”

Isildur smiled wryly. “’Rebels’? Is that what they call us these days?”

“I thought that is what they called your kind always.”

“’My kind’? What kind is that?”

The girl shrugged. “The kind who hates and opposes the King and Lord Zigur.”

“Is that really your words or are you just repeating what they have been feeding you?”

“My words are my own. Can you deny that is what the rebels do?” the young woman raised her chin and stared back at Isildur as if to challenge him. “Rebels have been criticizing the king for years now. They hate everything he does.”

“Let me make this clear, lady. We do not hate the king. And it is not us who oppose the king; it is the king who opposes us. We are not the ones who changed, the king and his men did. We do not criticize because we hate. We criticize because we love this land and it grieves us to see it fall lower every day.”

“How are we falling lower? Daira told me how it is like in the Middle Earth. They live in huts and caves with hardly enough food. But everything is plentiful here. She is amazed by the things we can do and build here. I mean, look at that temple. No one in the world can build something like that except us.”

“Have you been there?” Isildur asked.

“In the ancient land?” the young woman shook her head.

“I have. And I have met the Elves who still live there. I have been at the king’s campaign and seen what we do to those less fortunate in the name of 'saving them' from savagery and ignorance. Long ago, we did share our knowledge with them as the Elves did with us. But, we are no longer the teachers and liberators the King claims. Now, instead of sharing, we take. We suppress and lord over our ancient kin. Ask your brother. I had been a lieutenant under him. And if you dare to know the truth, ask your maid. Do you really believe these people gave up their freedom and rights willingly to come all the way across the ocean to be slaves to our people?”

The girl frowned.

Isildur looked out the window. The lies Sauron spread aided by the king and his men were sown deep into the people. And when the lies helped justify what they want, it was hard to persuade the people away from them.

They had left Armenelos and was traveling at an easy pace through a wide stone covered road. On each side of the road, rolling green pastures spread out wide, dotted here and there with groups of sheep. And amongst them stood tall statutes and gilded buildings.

“You are right. We have magnificent buildings and wealth and riches so that people feast every day. But, have you seen at what cost?” Isildur asked. “The magnificent buildings that you speak of consist of tombs and monuments to those who are no longer with us. We no longer build libraries and schools to educate, to pursue knowledge. Our history is buried because the Elven tongue with which most of our history is written is no longer taught to our people. Instead, what little history that is known, all the wisdom the Elves had given us, are either twisted or hidden.”

“But Elves do not care about us. If they did, wouldn’t they share their knowledge of immortality with us?”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Why would our king lie to us?”

A fire ignited in Isildur’s heart. He sat forward, then grimaced as his head swarm. The inside of the carriage swerved making his stomach turn. Isildur took in a quick breath to calm his head which pounded like the war drums.

“Let me ask you this, lady.” He steadied his breath. “I know that the king and his adviser claim that the White Tree is a symbol of Elven dominance and treachery. Is that what you believe, too?”

That was what everyone was told to believe; what everybody around him other than the Faithful believed. If this young woman believed that, too, then it was useless to try to convince her otherwise. The fervent followers of the king refused to listen to reason.

“I…I don’t know.” She blushed.

Briefly, he thought she looked like the pale white flowers he found many years ago at the summit of Meneltarma. In that moment, his heart fluttered, a feeling most strange to him.

Isildur leaned back on his seat. “At least, you admit to the possibility that all that you heard may not be the truth. Too many of our people are blind and deaf to the truth. Some even prefer willingly to ignore the fact that they are lies because it is what they wish to believe.”

“But, if what you say is true, then there would have been some members of Council of Sceptre who would have noticed. They are there as the king’s advisers, as a check and balance to the king. But, you do not hear any of them oppose the King. At the least, if not against the king, shouldn’t there be one or two who would speak against Lord Zigur?”

“How? The king dismisses anyone who disagrees with him. He and Zigur discredits anyone who speaks against them. Either you are with the king or you are labeled traitors and rebels as we have been.”

The girl looked unconvinced. It was unfortunate, but Isildur did not expect much. Well, maybe he did. She is, after all, Abrazan’s sister.

Just then, the carriage shook and the sudden movement thew the girl onto him. The pain that had radiated from his injury seared and Isildur hissed too late to bite down the groan that escaped him.

“I’m sorry. Let me see,” the girl pulled open Isildur’s top before he could stop her.

They had wrapped pillows around his trim waist to fill the dress which was meant for a much wider woman. The side of the pillow that was laid against his bandage was soaked, the redness of the blood vivid against the whiteness of the linen binding.

“Aren’t the bleeding supposed to stop?” the girl’s face turned pale.

“I think the dagger had something on it.” Even as he said so, Isildur wished he was wrong. But the pain was intense. His head swam again and he swallowed down the nausea. Something was definitely wrong.

The carriage slowed just then.

“Why are we slowing?” Isildur tensed. He tried to sit up, but his spine did not feel like his own. It was as if strength was leaving him like water in a cracked urn. Cold sweat began to prick his backside.

“We usually stop here before getting to Center Tavern to change horses. My father owns a hunting lodge beyond that hill. But, I don’t think we should stop. You need to see a healer.” She rapped at the top of the carriage. “Pretend to sleep,” she said and the young woman got off the carriage once it stopped before Isildur could stop her. 

Isildur fell back onto the cushion. Even if he wanted, he didn’t think he could move much. His body felt heavy, and he was so sleepy.

He closed his eyes and felt the wheels under him move. Isildur looked up and saw the lady’s concerned face hover above his. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear clearly.

He looked into her eyes, a gentle gray speckled with silver. _What pretty eyes_ , he thought. If only his plan had been a success and he had the fruit of Nimloth with him, he wouldn’t have minded the ride or even the pain.

Isildur closed his eyes.

* * *

 **Palantir** (plural, palantiri)--seeing stones. Elves gave Amandil, Isildur's grandfather and the 18th Lord of Andunie, seven seeing stones to comfort the Faithful when they were no longer welcome in Numenor. These marvelous orbs allowed the owners to communicate with each other over long distances or to see things that are happening in images (if you are powerful enough). Elendil took them to Middle Earth when Numenor was lost.

 **Meneltarma** \--tallest mountain in the center of the Island of Numenor. It was a holy place dedicated to Eru(God). Even Sauron did not dare to go there even at the height of his power. During Ar-Pharazon's reign, he forbid anyone from going up the mountain. (So, Isildur would have been mere youth when he had gone up there for the last time)


	6. The Gift

**GIMINZIL** had to stop herself from bursting out of the carriage when it pulled over to the roadside in front of Center Tavern. Daira climbed down from next to the driver of the carriage and opened the carriage door.

“Daira, stay here and make sure no one comes near this carriage. I need to go see a healer,” Giminzil whispered to her maid.

The maid shook her head. “No, mistress. I go see healer. Guards I handle, but if your father want to see Zoreth, I cannot disobey.”

That made sense, so Giminzil stepped out of the carriage once Daira left. Servants were unleashing the horses to change them for the fresh ones. She called one of the servants.

“Please go tell my father that my nurse has fallen asleep. I am going to stretch my legs around here until she wakes and will join him shortly.” With that Giminzil sent the servants away so that they, too, could rest and eat.

When she was sure that the servants left them alone, she went back inside the carriage to check on the man. His eyes were shut tight.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

The man did not answer. Giminzil took hold of his hand. It was cold and damp.

She should have asked for more medicine when she stopped by the infirmary before leaving the palace. But, she had only asked for herbs for pain complaining of headache. She had not wanted to garner any attention.

“Hold on,” Giminzil whispered as she squeezed his hand. Unsure what to do for him, she wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. Zoreth and Daira had braided and coiled his long hair in a style favored by the older women, but somehow it went well with the thickly painted and powdered face. He looked very different from what she remembered, but he could have passed for a beauty.

She had always imagined them meeting again, but she had never expected their second meeting to be so dramatic. It was even more so than their first. But, she felt as if she had gotten to know him.

Suddenly, the carriage door opened making Giminzil jump.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the person jumped in, his hand over her mouth. Giminzil’s eyes widened when she saw the face. He held his other hand over his mouth in a gesture of silence.

“Abrazan!” Giminzil threw herself onto her brother lowering her voice. “How did you get here? Why are you here?”

“I have been waiting for you and…” he turned to the dressed and powdered man lying on the seat.

“Where is Isildur? Daira said he is here. Who’s she?”

Giminzil pointed to the man in the woman’s dress.

Abrazan raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

“We don’t have much time, Silmë.”

“I know. This is him. We had to disguise him.”

Abrazan’s face took on a strange look.

“He is hurt badly, brother. I don’t know what to do.”

Giminzil pulled up the top and showed her brother the wound. Abrazan’s face turned dark and stony.

Her brother picked up Isildur. “I am going to take him to the healer I brought. Stall father. I didn’t expect you to arrive this early. Zoreth is not here yet. I sent her to someone who can bring her here, but she is old and cannot ride. If possible, convince father to stay the night here.”

“You know father does not like to sleep anywhere other than his own bed.”

“Father cannot know about this, Silmë. Convince him. He listens to you. I’ll see you at Romenna.”

Abrazan stepped out. Giminzil stopped him, then handed him a small pouch.

“He came for this.” She handed the fruit to her brother.

“Is this?”

“Nimloth’s fruit. He risked much for it.”


	7. The Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giminzil listens in the argument between her father and her brother.

**GIMINZIL** breathed in the salty air of Romenna. The largest port city in Anadûnê glowed golden under the afternoon sun. Even without the salt in the air, the squawking of the seagulls and the shrill cries of the seabirds made it difficult not to know that this was a seaside city.

“Close the window, dear. The air is chilly.” Zoreth yawned, then went back to dozing under the afternoon sunlight.

Giminzil closed the window shutting out the noisy sound of the seabirds. Her brother once told her that he could tell they were near Anadûnê even before they had the sight of the land because thousands of seabirds would fly over their ship and the noise of them could be heard miles off the shore.

“Do you think Abrazan will return today?” Giminzil knew Zoreth probably didn’t hear her, but she asked anyway.

Her father had been displeased, to put it mildly, to find that Abrazan was not at the manor house when they arrived quite late in the night.

They thought Abrazan had only recently arrived from the Middle-earth, but it seemed her brother had been at Romenna much longer. Her father raged when Abrazan did not show the next day morning.

Giminzil waited for her brother just as his father did, and she had a lot of questions. How was Isildur? She knew his name only after her brother mentioned it. Why had she not asked the man earlier? But more importantly, how did Abrazan know about what happened to Isildur? He must have known of the incident early in the morning of the day they left Armenelos for him to have arrived at Center Tavern before they did. The tavern was halfway, a twenty five mile distance, between Romenna and Armenelos. And after taking Isildur, her brother had ridden back to take back a velvet pouch from her nurse. Zoreth said it was just some orb made of black stone. But whatever it was, it was something of obvious importance, enough for her brother to come back for it risking getting caught.

What worried her more than anything was how deeply her brother was involved with the rebels.

When the sun tilted westward on the second day they arrived in Romenna, she heard a sound of a horse and knew instinctively that it was Abrazan.

Giminzil rushed downstairs to find Daira there.

“Did my brother return?”

“Yes, mistress. He is with his lordship.” She pointed to the solarium built on the south wall of the mansion. It was a favorite place of her mother’s when she was here at Romenna.

With a glad heart, Giminzil entered the solarium. Although it was late fall, the air inside was warm and many delicate lilies of varying hues were still in full bloom.

“I forbid it!” Her father’s shrill voice ripped through the peace of the solarium.

Giminzil stood still where she was. She could not see them behind a cluster of pots with goldenrods and sedum, but she could hear her father and brother clearly.

“I have already agreed to command one of Lord Amandil’s ships.”

“You left the king’s service, and you said you needed some time alone. I let you go even though I knew I didn’t have much years left in me because I believed you will return and take your rightful place. It has been six years, Abrazan.” Her father sounded tired. “Don’t you think you should settle down, get married, have children? You will be the next Lord of Mittalmar. Being a member of the Council of Sceptre is not just my legacy to you, son. It is a duty you were born for.”

“Duty, father? What duty? To sit quietly in the council chamber and agree to everything the King does even when I know in my heart it is wrong?”

“Abrazan!” Father’s voice rang through the solarium. Then, he softened his voice. “Is this about the queen?” Her father lowered his voice. “Ar-Pharazon did wrong by you, but ultimately, it was her decision.”

“I am aware of that. And I don’t blame her. But, this isn’t about her or even about me. He broke every promise he made to me. That he broke his promise to respect her, to rule along side her, I could have forgiven had he done it for the sake of our people, in pursuit of the great ideals of our ancestors. If he lived up to what he calls himself, I still would give my life for him as I once would have."

“He has brought us more wealth and power than we ever had.”

“When did having power and wealth the mark of a great leader, father? Is he a mere merchant whose success depends on profit alone? You told me yourself that a king is a father of our nation. You said a father needs more than strength or even knowledge. He needs empathy because he needs to understand the many different members of the family, from mother to children to servants and even pets because they are all part of the family. He needs wisdom to listen to good council and have knowledgeable people around him because a father does not always know how to do everything his home needs. But most importantly, you said he needs to be a good example for his children because the children, no matter the amount of love they bear their father, will emulate what their father does. But what does Ar-Pharazon do? He makes slaves of those who are weaker than us, turns away from those who give good council. He dismisses people who are wise and instead he surrounds himself with those who would only praise and hang onto his every word. He turns instead to the words of the Deceiver, turns away from those who are our friends and makes mockery of the values of our ancestors."

“What values do you speak of? It may have been disallowed to marry his first cousin, but there was never a written law against it.”

“I am talking of the freedom, justice and the equality for all that our ancestors believed in, fought and died for. Instead, we take the freedom of those less fortunate than us, then ignore their grievances and commit atrocities."

“You speak of the slaves? And what atrocities? The temple is just a place, my son. And Nimloth is just a tree. They are just symbols. Building one and burning the other are not going to change anything.”

“So, it is true that the king plans to burn the tree.” Abrazan’s voice shook. “Do you not see, father, that the temple is not just any temple, and that tree not just any tree?”

“If Zigur is to be believed, we may gain even more than just wealth. You seem to know very well what is going on. Then, you must also know that there is a possibility to gain everlasting life. If you can have that, isn’t building one temple and the loss of one tree worth it?”

“Your desire for longer life, I understand. I am hundred and seventy, and I feel the weariness in my bones. But what makes you think Zigur is telling you and the king the truth? You said yourself, father, ‘if Zigur is to be believed.’ And for that we have invited a dragon into our home made of wood. You know who Zigur is. What he once was. Have you forgotten what our people suffered under him and his dark master for whom the king builds this temple? Do you think there will be no consequences? What good would having everlasting life do for us if we lose who we are, the values that defined us."

"We haven't forgotten them."

"Have we not? Every year, we want more land and more gold. But do you even know how those are attained? Do you know what the King’s Men do… what I and the king did against the people who barely know how to make a decent sword? We burned down whole villages of women and children. They were just farmers and fishermen.” Abrazan’s voice cracked. “And we killed them or made slaves of them. And now, we want to burn them in that dark temple. What are we becoming, father?"

“That is just a talk. And even then, they are savages. Only those who resist us are taken, those who would dare to fight back.”

“They fight back because we oppress them. Because we demand or take more than they could give. And when they give in, we treat them less than the way we treat our horses. But are we not all same Men? Shouldn’t their lives matter?”

“So, you were feeling sorry for them, is that it? Is that why you were helping them secretly? Oh yes, the king knows of it. But His Majesty is generous, son. He told me he will forgive you for all your trespasses if you come back to him. Come back to Armenelos with me, kneel before the king and ask for forgiveness.”

Abrazan was silent. But the sea wind outside the Solarium howled. 

“Son, why risk your life for the lives of the slaves?" Her father spoke, his voice gentle as if to appease a child. "Haven’t they killed our soldiers, too? Shouldn’t the lives of our own people matter first and foremost? Lives of those slaves shouldn’t be the only thing that is important."

“Can you not hear yourself? Of course, lives of our people matter. That is given. But, we are the ones in power, father. We are the ones holding the blades at their throat. How absurd would it sound to the person whose neck is bleeding at the point of our blades to hear us say that our lives matter, too?”

“You will turn down the mercy the king has shown you?" Father's voice turned sharp. "You care about these savages, these slaves, more than your own family? Our king is not perfect. No one is. But you owe him your duty. Where is your sense of honor, duty and the loyalty to the king? Our House served the king since the time of Tar-Minyatur, and part of his royal blood flows in your veins through your mother. What will your mother say if she found out that you are now a traitor to the king?”

“And what would mother think of you if she lived? When have you become the blind follower of what Zigur spouts? You who once stood with Lord Amandil and spoke against Zigur. Now, it seems the Council of Sceptre is in name only, a mere decoration of what it once was. Are you the Lord of Mittalmar and an adviser to the king or just another sycophant full of flattering lies." 

"How dare you!" Her father's words trembled as if about to blow. Giminzil worried whether she should interrupt them or not. "What would you know? You left! I was left to defend this House alone. This House which has stood in this land for two thousand years. What would you have me do? Those who go against the king, against Zigur, they all fall or they leave. Just as Lord Amandil did. He shuts himself behind the walls in his manor house. Go with you to Middle Earth? Why when this is my home? I will not have it crumble into ruin during my time. At least, I am standing my ground."

"So, you sold your soul for our House? To keep it standing?" Her brother laughed, sound hollow and bitter. "I suppose, I cannot blame you. If mother knew what horrors I committed in the name of the king for these past twenty years at his many campaigns in the Middle Earth, it would have broken her heart. And all those years, I did so, thinking it was for the glory of Anadûnê."

"You did what you had to. That is what we do as Men of Anadune. There is no shame in it."

"No shame? How could there not be? What was it all for? Did you know how I felt coming back from the world of death and destruction to find the king thinking of building the black temple to the Dark Lord who had once enslaved us? The king I trusted, given my life, the one to whom I tore out my heart to...he promised to love her, but he had turned her into a ghostly version of what she once was. But, even that I could have forgiven if he would have listened. The king I used to know listened to advice given in good faith even if he did not like the sound of it. But now, his ears are too proud and is tuned only to the lies and the adoration. The criticisms given in loyalty and friendship, he takes as the words of a traitor. The absurdities he spouts. I don't know if the king truly believes them or if he goes along with Sauron because he thinks they will benefit him."

“What absurdities?”

“The absurdity that Elves are the hoarders of knowledge and riches when it is the Elves who had given us the knowledge to build this land, when it is they who had brought us the fragrant trees and flowers and the many goods that enriched and made this land what it is. But, do you know what is the most absurd of all? The king and his predecessors denouncing the Elves when it is the Elven blood that runs through their veins which give them the power and the long life they enjoy. If Sauron is to be believed, then it is the King’s House that we should hate the most. We should destroy all our history written in Elvish, hate all the cities, trees, flowers and people whose names are in Elvish, the very core of what makes our kingdom what it is. Do you not see the absurdity of it all? And now, he tells us to burn slaves in his master’s temple. For what? So we could have everlasting life? Do you see anyone being shocked? Be warned, father: those who can make you believe in the absurdities can also make you commit atrocities. He may say to burn the slaves now, but how long do you think it will take for Sauron to say burn burn us, the ones he consider his enemies? And the people will blindly follow that, too. Well, I am not going to be a part of it."

Her brother went past Giminzil without seeing her.

“Abrazan! Come back here. You will destroy our House. You hear me?” Her father called for her brother, but Abrazan did not stop and left the solarium.

Giminzil ran after her brother. There was something about the way her brother was walking that made her feel that she wouldn’t see him again.

“Wait, Abrazan!”

Her brother stopped, and she caught up to him.

Her brother’s gray eyes were stormy like the angry sea.

Giminzil felt tears well up in her eyes. “Where are you going? You are coming back, aren’t you?” Tears clouded her eyes as a hard lump burned in her throat. Her brother was the only other family beside her father.

Abrazan opened his arms, and she rushed into it. He held her tightly.

“Is it true what you said to father?”

“I am sorry you had to hear that,” he said softly. “I wish things are different.” He sighed. Then, he pulled away to look into her eyes.

“I am leaving for Middle Earth as soon as it is safe to sail. Come with me, Silmë. I will keep you safe. There is a land in Middle Earth where some of our people have settled. I will be taking more of the Faithful there. I do not plan to come back.”

"But, father..."

"I have asked him to come with me. But, I don't know. He is stubborn. But, you. Do not go back to the palace. After what Isildur did, it may become a dangerous place for you." Abrazan sighed. "I told him to wait, but he is young and rash."

"How is he? Is he well?"

Her brother's face darkened. "His wound is bad. He lost a lot of blood."

Giminzil clenched her fists. Somewhere in her heart, a knife struck.

"He is going to be all right, though, isn't he?"

"We can only hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Abrazan's words are a quote from Voltaire: "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."


	8. The Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon calls Giminzil for questioning regarding the intruder.

**MAIRON** twisted the silver stands around his finger. He understood what had happened, but there were still few things he needed to confirm.

“My lord, Lady Giminzil is here.” Herumor opened the door to his sitting room.

The young woman glided into the chamber. Her steps were firm, changed from the skittish girl who had ran out of his chambers two weeks ago.

“You asked for me, my lord?” The girl kept her eyes downcast.

She had returned to the palace three days ago. Something about her looked different, but Mairon could not say exactly what.

“Your trip to Romenna was pleasant, I presume?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You met your brother?”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t going to volunteer any information, it was apparent. 

“Will he be joining us here at the palace? I believe His Majesty is expecting him.”

“I do not know, my lord.” The woman kept her eyes downward, making it hard for Mairon to look into her eyes.

“I heard you didn’t bring back your nurse. Why?”

The girl frowned. She hesitated, then said, “She is very old. She was too exhausted for travel, so my father thought it best that she rest at Romenna. May I ask why you asked for me, my lord?"

"Well, as I had to return unexpectedly, I had a chance to look over Her Majesty's Household structure." Mairon pointed to the document on his desk. "You entered the Queen's Household a year later than Lady Dollbeni, but actually you are four years older than her."

"The year I was to enter court, my mother passed away, then my father fell sick. I delayed my entrance to nurse my father."

"Very noble of you. Given that you have known Her Majesty for a long time...I understand you've known her since you were a child?"

The girl nodded, then looked up. There were questions on her gray eyes, but she stayed silent. 

"You need not worry, Lady Giminzil. I was looking into you because Her Majesty always wanted you as her Lady of the Bedchamber. And I see why. I think you would fit that position much better than Lady Dollbeni. What do you think? As the Head Lady-in-Waiting, you will be able to order Her Majesty's Household as you see fit. You are an intelligent girl. I am sure it will be to your liking."

The girl's face, which had been tense and somber as a statue, took on a bright shine as if sunlight fell on it. She took in a quick breath and tried to control her excitement, but Mairon could see the flush of heat on her face.

"But, Lady Dollbeni, what will happen to her?"

"She will be reassigned to work in the Temple."

"Why..." She looked as if she wanted to ask more, but she stopped.

Mairon shrugged. "You are loyal to the queen, and she obviously trusts you. And my job is to do what makes both the king and the queen happy. Don't you agree? You seem loyal to the crown and will tell the truth. Will you not?"

"Of course."

"I am glad. You have been a good friend to the queen, and the queen had asked me to give you a present." Mairon took out a small bottle and placed it on the desk in front of the young woman. 

The girl looked up again.

"I noticed how you felt about your hair. This will help deepened the color turning your tresses into dark gold. Once it turns into the color you desire, wash it, and it will stay that color forever."

The girl looked at the bottle, her eyes filled with stars. Then a shadow filled them as she looked up. Mairon could see her mind churning. She was wondering why he was offering her all these. It wasn't the reaction he expected from her. Most girls just accepted, too thrilled to think further than the explanation he had already offered.

"I want you to know, Lady Giminzil, that the Queen thinks highly of you and wants to keep you near her always. I hope you are loyal to her."

"Without doubt, my lord."

"Then, is it correct to assume that you had no part in hiding the intruder when he infiltrated the palace?"

The girl turned rigid for a brief moment before looking up. "The guards were saying it was an assassin. Is it true that the guards on duty were killed?” 

Mairon frowned. He had not wanted that known yet, but sometimes words spread faster than he planned.

“Perhaps. Do you know anything about it?

“No. Not really. But, I saw those guards…I mean, the morning we were leaving the palace, I stopped by the infirmary…because I needed some herbs for my headache.” The girl’s voice trembled. Lying was not easy for her; Mairon could see it clearly.

“How do you know if the guards you saw are the same ones who are dead?"

The girl's face turned dark red as she dropped it.

"Perhaps because you saw them the night the intruder came?" Mairon got up to stand before the young woman who stood there rigid, her hands clutching her red dress.

"The intruder knew the schedule when there would be a change of the guards. He probably had an accomplice in the palace. Did you hear about that?”

“It is the first time hearing it, my lord.” The girl clenched her hands. “Why are you asking me?” She held up her head and met his eyes.

Mairon almost admired her courage. Almost.

He shrugged and stepped closer to her. She flinched a step back.

“Your father is Lord of Mittalmar. He should be a model of loyalty among other Men, and as his daughter, you ought to be the same for other young people, don’t you think so, Lady Giminzil?” He reminded the young woman one more time.

“Have I done something to make you think otherwise, my lord?” The girl tried to stay calm, but his senses picked up the thick fear that surrounded the young woman like evening fog. He allowed his lips to curve up. His stomach tensed as if he was about to pounce on a prey in front of him.

“When I was told of the intruder and how he suddenly vanished, I got very curious. It seemed obvious to me that the only way someone would have penetrated that part of the palace would be if he was one of the guards or if he climbed the cliff by the central courtyard. I handpicked the guards stationed there. I know each and every one of them. They may slack at times, but they are fiercely loyal to the king. So, that leaves the cliff.”

The girl glanced at him from under her lashes, probably wondering where he was going with this. He just wanted her to wonder for a bit. It made the reveal that much sweeter.

“Have you ever been to the balcony by the cliff?”

The girl nodded.

“Did you see how steep it is? It is almost impossible to climb it. And even if one did, one had to have someone drop a rope from the balcony for that person to climb all the way up. Don’t you agree?”

“I suppose so.”

“But even if he did climb up, where did he go? Not back down the same way. He wouldn't have had time to run down to the lower balcony without being seen once the alarm bells rang through the palace. He was near the tree. So where did he go? What do you think, Lady Giminzil?"

"I...I do not know." The girl fidgeted where she stood.

Sometimes, these humans forgot who they were dealing with. Mairon's senses were beyond those of the normal Men. The guards couldn’t find any trace except that the man had went around the White Tree few times. But, his Maiarian eyes, which could see even better than the Elves, had found the scuff marks on the statutes. Looking up at the two round structures on the shoulders of the stone sentinels, he had remembered reading about those balconies.

"Are you aware, lady, that there are another set of balconies on the central courtyard?”

Men forgot things with time, even those things they wrote down, but Mairon did not.

“You won’t know it from the courtyard because they are covered with intricate traceries, built on each side of the two statutes. But on the very top, which cannot be seen from the ground, there is a large circular opening, large enough for a grown man to easily jump through.”

Giminzil’s face paled a shade lighter, but she shook her head.

“No? Well, there are two balconies, unused for some time. Had my guards known about them, they would have found something very interesting. One of the chambers had a fresh blood stains on the floor. As well as a rope, the kind they use at the royal kitchen for tying the supplies. And this.” Mairon spread his hand showing several strands of long silver hair.

“I didn’t know there were others in Anadûnê who had silver hair. Do you?”

The girl’s face was bloodless.

Tears welled in her eyes, but the young woman blinked them away. Once, Mairon may have admired the way she kept herself together. There were very few who could even stand straight in front of him. But, he no longer felt anything for these lesser children of Eru.

“By the way, Lady Giminzil, do you know where your maid is?”

“She…she was called to my father’s house… early this morning.”

“Or that is what you were told. I have your slave woman, Lady Giminzil.” Mairon let that sink in. The girl looked lost, her eyes unbelieving. “She confessed that she helped the intruder.”

“What… did you…do to her?” You could barely hear her now, her voice was shaking so much.

“She confessed that it was a man your brother knew, that he asked her to help him. And that you hid him in your carriage, and your brother came to take him away.”

It had been easy to force the truth out of that slave. The woman fought hard to protect her mistress and Abrazan whom she considered her savior. But, in the end, it was not difficult to break her. It was unfortunate that she didn’t seem to know exactly who the intruder was, only that it was a man Abrazan knew well, someone who helped her and Abrazan. She only knew him as some young lord. She kept repeating grandson. And a word "Amadee". But that had not made sense. Things would have been easier if she was alive, but the slave did not survive the torture. Not that it would matter. The slave’s testimony would not have moved the king.

The young woman closed her eyes. Her chin trembled.

Mairon smoothed his voice. Now that he had built the walls around her, it was a time to give her a way out.

“I had hoped your loyalty to the queen would make you truthful to me. I would like to believe that you were not aiding that intruder. So my previous offers to you still stands." Mairon tapped on the bottle of hair potion to remind Giminzil what she was giving up. "Your slave said you and your brother were not an active participant. I want to believe that. Can I believe that, Lady Giminzil?"

"It's true. I... I was just there to watch the tree. On my honor, I swear, my lord."

"If that was so, why did you help him? Did Lord Amandil’s grandson forced you?”

The girl’s face turned rigid. Mairon was taking a wild guess because that was what he wanted to believe and "Amadee" sounded somewhat close to Amandil, but he was certain now. “Perhaps Lord Amandil ordered you and your brother?”

“No.” The girl shook her head resolutely. “We did not have any order from anyone.”

Mairon knew that the Lord of Andúnië wouldn’t have done anything against the King’s rule. But Mairon wanted Amandil. He was the leader of the Faithful, the ones Mairon hated the most. But the former chief adviser to the king, the Lord of Andúnië, still commanded respect and love from the people. And Mairon knew that the king still had some weakness for his former friend and was reluctant to touch the Lord of Andúnië. Only the strongest evidence or a testimony from someone the king would trust to be honest would do. 

If he had his way, he would have forced his way into Amandil’s castle and seized his two grandsons. But without Giminzil to testify against him, Mairon could not establish a firm case against whichever grandson it was. And Mairon could not send guards into Amandil’s manor without prior authorization of the king without risking the plan backfiring. He had waited a long time, and he wasn’t about to act rashly and ruin it all.

“But, it is true that Lord Amandil’s grandson infiltrated the palace?”

The girl clamped up, her face stony.

“Lady Giminzil, you have the Queen's trust. What would the Queen say if she knew you were aiding a known rebel, and you were breaking the King's laws? You have a bright future ahead of you. Do not throw it away for this man. Do you even know him well? A rebel? What is worse, if you do not testify that Amandil’s grandson stole into the palace, all the evidence seems to point to your brother.”

“But, my brother did not do anything. He only helped.”

“Helped Lord Amandil’s grandson.”

She clamped her mouth again. Mairon felt his patience running thin.

“When the king arrives tomorrow, I will be showing him the evidence, the four dead guards, the poisoned barrel of wine in the king’s cellar…”

“What poisoned barrel of wine? I do not know anything about that, my lord. I swear.”

“Of course, lady. You need not worry about yourself or your brother if you tell the king and the court what you know, that Amandil’s grandson stole into the courtyard, that you saw him when you stopped by to look at the tree. That is all you need to testify. And, I won’t mention that your maid assisted him, or that you were in the forbidden chamber to watch the tree, or that you hid the intruder in your carriage, or that your brother was seen at the Center Tavern where your carriage stopped for rest. If these evidences are presented, they incriminate your brother with you as an accomplice."

“My brother did nothing wrong.”

“I suppose you do not know that your brother has a history of acting against the king?”

“Abrazan is loyal to the king.” The girl was shaking, her face red.

“Perhaps. But your brother has joined the rebels and has been doing things against the king’s edict. And there is that little thing with the queen. Do you know about it? It happened while you weren't still a babe.”

The girl shook her head.

“There was a talk of betrothal between the queen and your brother before Ar-Pharazon wed her. It wouldn’t be inconceivable for the court or the king to think that your brother held a grudge against His Majesty, especially given all the evidence against him."

“My brother is not like that.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears and outrage.

“Perhaps. But it is not important what you believe, is it? What is important is what other lords will think, especially what the king will think. But, if you testify that it was Amandil’s grandson, and not your brother, then there is no reason for those incriminating evidences to come out. And if they come out, things do not look great for you, young lady. At the least, you aided a rebel infiltrate the palace and helped him escape the guards. At worst, you conspired with a rebel to assassinate the king and the queen."

“That's ridiculous.The king and the queen were not even in the palace. Why would there be an assassin after they left the palace?"

Mairon shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps he thought it was easier to infiltrate the palace when they were not here, so he came to poison the king's wine?”

"He didn't even go near the king's cellar, and the guards were alive before I left the palace."

“Lady Giminzil!” Mairon stood up tall knowing full well his true self shone through his shell. The girl paled and cowed before him, shaking uncontrollably.

“Let me clarify the situation for you. The king and the queen will arrive tomorrow from Hyarnustar. The king will hear that a rebel assassin had penetrated the palace, that you helped the assassin. And that assassin is Abrazan unless you testify it was Amandil's grandson. You can say what you wish, but the evidence is clear. You were there at that balcony when the assassin came. The rope and the strands of hair found at the balcony along with the fresh sample of blood there proves that. We also have four dead guards and a poisoned barrel of wine. Your duty is to testify as to who that person is. Otherwise, you will prove your disloyalty. You and your entire family will be arrested for treason. Do you understand?”

Mairon took in a breath and softened his voice. The girl whimpered, terror evident in her eyes.

“All I am asking, Lady Giminzil, is for you to tell the truth. Think about your brother, your old father. You do not want to see him in the dungeon in his weak condition, do you, lady? Why risk losing your family for someone else, for a rebel no less. I know you are loyal to the king. And think about the queen. What would she do without you?"

Mairon let his words sink in. "I will be asking again tomorrow. I hope a good night in your plush, warm bed will help you to think clearly. I certainly would not want to see a lady like you suffer in the cold stone floor of the dungeon.”

Mairon sat back with a smile as he watched the young woman practically run out of his chamber. She swayed as if she would faint and would have fallen on the floor unable to walk if it was not for Herumor who lend her his arm.

“Amandil, I have you now. You and your entire brood will burn in my temple.”

Mairon laughed out loud. Whether she testified or not, whether it was Amandil's grandson or Abrazan, one thing was certain: the White Tree will burn. The rest was only a matter of time. 


	9. Amdir and Estel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giminzil learns the meaning of amdir and estel.

**Armenelos. Early Spring. SA 3281**

**GIMINZIL** shivered at the cold that seeped all the way to her bones.

A young girl sitting within the crook of her mother's arm peeked at Giminzil. The girl was dirty and dressed in faded garments that had once been a deep green velvet. Giminzil smiled at the girl and offered the bread in her hand.

The girl looked at her mother who nodded.

“You don’t want it?” The little girl asked, but she bit into the bread hungrily. When she was done eating, she looked up. “Your hair is pretty,” she said.

Giminzil smiled at that. Her hair was now dirty and hung loose behind her back. That she used to worry about the color of her hair was laughable now.

“Your hair is pretty, too,” Giminzil said as she touched the girl’s greasy, golden curls. The girl was so young, no older than nine, perhaps ten.

Giminzil looked at the group of women and children, seven in all. They were the most recent ‘rebels’ captured by the King’s Men. There had been more of them when Giminzil was first thrust in here. But one by one, sometimes by twos and threes, they took them away and never returned.

At first, Giminzil was kept at a single cell, but once Lord Zigur stopped calling for her, the queen stopped coming. Then, the long winter came as she watched through the bars of her cell which looked out onto the city and smelled the stench that filled the city for seven days and seven nights.

It was not until she was shoved into this larger cell with others that she learned that the foul odor she smelled was from the tree. They said the king had finally chopped down the White Tree and burned it in the Temple. And for seven days the dark smoke from it had covered the city of Armenelos.

Giminzil would have cried if she had any more tears left in her, but she did not. And she did not give in. Not because of the man, although she worried whether Isildur was alive, but more because of her father and brother. At least, that was what she told herself.

They had sent her father to the cell to plead with her, but her father had told her otherwise. Giminzil played over the scene the last time she saw her father, perhaps a month after she was brought to a small single room with one tiny window that looked out onto Armenelos. Her father, whose hair had turned completely white, had lost much weight and was like a different person.

“I am sorry for what is happening, my daughter.” Her father held her tightly to him and had whispered into her ear. “I know they want me to beg you to say that it was Isildur, thus Lord Amandil, who tried to harm the king. But, Abrazan was right. There is more at stake than what seems. How I wish I could tell Abrazan so. If we let Zigur take down Lord Amandil, then we allow everything that is good in Anadune to burn. His fall will affect many others, the many Faithful who still believe in the traditions and values our forefathers had fought hard to keep alive. Do you understand, my daughter?”

“Have they…have they gotten to Isildur? Abrazan?”

“They tried. But, they cannot touch Lord Amandil without solid proof, and,” he lowered his voice even further, “I believe Lord Amandil has Abrazan or has sent him to Middle Earth. They could not locate him. As long as you do not testify against either of them, even if they are caught, they could not lawfully bring them to court. But, you my daughter, they have accused you of spying, of assisting an assassin. And the evidence against you is…”

It had been the first time she had seen her father cry. And within two months of that meeting, the queen came to visit her. She didn't beg Giminzil to testify as she had done the first two prior visits. Instead, the queen had secretly handed her a sealed letter from her father with the news of her father’s passing. It had been the last of the queen’s visit and the last of the favors.

Giminzil bit down the hard lump in her throat at the last memory of her father.

“What is your name?” Forcing a smile, Giminzil asked the girl.

“Nimloth.”

“Like the White Tree?”

The girl nodded, her smile wide. “It means ‘white flower’.”

“That is a pretty name. Mine is Silmë.”

“Your name is really pretty,” the girl said. “'Starlight'. Were you named that because of your hair?” the girl asked.

“Is that what ‘Silmë’ means?” Giminzil had not known.

The girl nodded. Giminzil wished she had learned the Elven tongue. Maybe she should have paid more attention when her mother taught her history.

There were so many things Giminzil did not know. She understood now why Isildur had said during their first meeting that her name was an apt description of her beautiful hair. She had been too frightened at that time to ask him what he meant. Terrified as she was, she remembered one thing clearly about Isildur, his eyes. The calm strength in those gray eyes and the gentle smile on his lips had soothed her frantic heart. She had known that she could trust him. 

Giminzil wondered if Isildur lived. His wound was serious. Would he come for her if he survived? But, then why should he? He rescued her, and she had paid him back by helping him. They were even now. More likely, she would never see him again. What she was doing, her refusal to testify, it was for her brother. Not for Isildur. So, he didn't owe her.

Her eyes stung. Giminzil looked away at the lone window high above the stone cell.

Thump! Something slammed against the wall of the cell.

Nimloth's mother swept the child into her arms. Giminzil stood up when the door opened wide. The women and the children moved away from the door when two armed men walked in. Their face and hair were covered in a dark fabric.

“Silmë,” one of them took off his face cover.

Tears welled in her eyes. Giminzil rushed into the open arms.

“Abrazan.”

“Dear sister, I found you.” They clung to each other.

“How did you get here? It is too dangerous.”

“Abrazan,” the other man touched Abrazan’s elbow.

Giminzil looked at the man. His voice sounded familiar. 

But they didn’t have time to talk or to linger. The women and children were quickly ushered out.

When they stepped out of the dungeon door, there were two more armed and masked men. Behind them was a group of people who looked as if they have been in the dungeon as long as she had. Several guards groaned on the ground, and one of the masked men was tying the guards together.

“Do you know where father is held?” Abrazan whispered as they were led down a dark hallway. 

“Abrazan, father…he didn’t…” Her throat tightened, and tears fell down her face.

Her brother pulled her into his arms, then kissed her forehead.

“He was old and was already very weak.” Giminzil could feel his brother’s muscle tense and rigid as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Even if it wasn’t for the cold of the dungeons, he would not have lasted long.”

Her brother nodded woodenly.

The other man’s hand came and landed behind her brother’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was my fault.”

“This is no time to talk of faults,” Abrazan said and walked forward.

Giminzil was now certain the man was Isildur. She moved to follow when Isildur walked up next to her. He grabbed her hand then squeezed. He looked down at her and she looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The grief and the sorrow in his eyes said it all. She gave him a teary smile, and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. Then, she followed after her brother. They moved in silence.

Giminzil noticed that instead of going up, they were going down.

“Shouldn’t we go up?” Giminzil looked up at her brother.

“There is a secret passage down here that leads directly outside the wall of the palace,” Isildur whispered to her from behind her.

When they went down another level, it seemed as if there was no where to go. Isildur stepped forward then pawed the wall. Giminzil did not know what he was looking for until the wall slid open. It revealed a narrow passage.

The passage was dark and damp. It curved and went even lower until it came to another wall that slid open. Outside was a dirt path. Some areas of the passage went over a natural cave and you could see a moonbeam come through a narrow crevice high above.

“What is this place?” Giminzil asked as she looked around her. There was a little more than a dozen men and women with three children following behind Isildur and her brother. The two armed men followed behind the rescued prisoners. 

“If you knew this passage, why didn’t you use this instead of the cliff?” Giminzil whispered to Isildur as he walked beside her.

“I didn’t know about this passage before. This is a secret passage known only to the kings in the event they needed to escape the palace.”

“I heard about it from my mother. But, I thought the knowledge was passed only from a king to his heir. Even my mother only knew a very limited portion of the passage.”

“Tar-Palantir told my grandfather.”

“The queen’s father?”

“Yes, the former king passed the knowledge of the passage to my grandfather. He told him that one day, he may need to use it. Perhaps, he foresaw this day. You know that he was known for his foresight.”

“But, why did Lord Amandil tell you? I thought your grandfather did not believe in going against the king.”

“My grandfather is loyal to the king, but he cannot abide by what is happening. When he saw what was happening at the temple…”

“Saw? He went to visit the temple?”

“Of course not. He can see things using a palantir.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a seeing stone. I’ll explain it to you one day.”

“But, you wouldn’t have been able to do this again. I am sure Lord Zigur will figure it out. You do not know what he is capable of.” Giminzil shivered.

“We know more than you think,” Isildur said. “But even without knowing this passage, I would have come for you. I am sorry it took so long. It’s just… it took me a while to recover.”

“He got out of bed only a few days ago.” Abrazan turned suddenly and jumped into the conversation. “And he threatened Lord Amandil that he was going to the palace to rescue you whether he allowed it or not.”

Isildur pushed Abrazan away. “No one is talking to you, Abrazan.”

“You came to the palace alone to get the fruit and now this, don’t you think you are rather rash?”

“That is what they tell me.” Isildur rubbed at the back of his neck.

“And he still does not listen,” Abrazan said. “I have been planning this for months, and he just got out of bed and thought he could just walk into the palace.”

Isildur turned to her. "Thank you for the fruit. You do not know what that gift meant for everyone. How did you get it? I thought Sauron had it in his chamber and it was inaccessible."

"I'll tell it to you one day," Giminzil said, unable to control the pull of her lips. Isildur made an exaggerated bow. She walked forward and tapped her brother on the shoulder. She had questions. “Lord Zigur’s soldiers were looking for you, brother. How did you evade them?”

“Before they came, I received a warning from Lord Elendil. I sailed out into the open sea letting them think I sailed to the Middle Earth.”

The passage opened onto an edge of a forest where a small stream cut across it. The grasses were green and covered in the purple blooms of bluebells. When they emerged, two more armored men approached them with horses, and the dawn was breaking pale in the eastern sky.

Having washed in the stream and changed her clothes, she sat on a horse and watched the colossal Temple of Melkor. The silver dome, once bright and shiny, had turned black. A great black smoke issued from the louver in the topmost of the dome filling the sky with dark clouds like a great dragon hovering above the city. Armenelos, once known as the Golden City of the Kings, was no longer golden.

Giminzil turned to look up at the steep hillside on the top of which sat the King’s House. From where she was the cliff looked impossibly steep. Isildur moved his horse next to hers and they looked up at the King's palace.

“How did you climb that? Even with Daira…” the mention of her name brought the pain anew. Lord Zigur had told her how her maid had died. He had told her that she killed Daira when she refused to name Isildur.

“I am sorry for the ordeal you went through because of me. I heard about what happened to your maid. Did she at least find her son?"

"Son?" Giminzil frowned. Daira had never mentioned that she had a son.

"You didn't know? Your brother rescued her from a burning village. The slave traders. Abrazan said he got there too late. It seemed she fought back, and they decided to get rid of her. But they took her young son. That is why your brother brought her here. She wanted to come and find her son. We tried what we could to find out to whom her son was sold to. I was only able to find that it was one of the servants from the high lords, a member of the Council of Sceptre. I couldn't find out which one. Daira wanted to go to the palace which was, as you are aware, something we could not do for her. That was why Abrazan sent her to you, so you could take her to the court and provide opportunity for her to find him. She never told you?"

Giminzil shook her head. There were so many things she did not know. Too many things she did not bother to learn.

"I suppose, we will never know now." Isildur dropped his head. "I should not have involved her. But I no longer had anyone inside the palace that I could approach, and when I saw her at the market...I am truly sorry."

"At the least, the fruit, was it worth it?"

"Yes. Yes, it was. My grandfather planted it and it grew. And it gave us hope."

Hope? Was that enough to make up for all that happened? Giminzil wondered, but she did not ask.

"I cannot make up for all the losses you experienced because of me. But, tell me what I could do, and I will do it.” Isildur looked down at her with unfathomable eyes. "You saved me. My life, it belongs to you now."

"I helped you because you helped me. We are even now."

“What I did for you was just a small portion of what you have done for me. You risked everything. May I ask why?”

“Why what?” Giminzil turned to look at Isildur. He was gazing at the temple.

“Sauron…Lord Zigur must have asked you to testify against my grandfather, at the least, to testify against me, but you did not. You had everything to lose and nothing to gain by keeping silent. Yet, you kept silent. Why?” He turned to her now, his gray eyes probing.

Giminzil shrugged.

“The last time I saw my brother at Romenna, he told me not to mention your name to the guards and especially to Lord Zigur. He told me of Lord Amandil’s importance to the Faithful and that he was Lord Zigur’s enemy. If he knew you were involved in the incident at the palace, he may try to use you. Still, I may have given up and testify if it wasn’t for my brother. He told me how many people it will affect if I testified against you. And I couldn’t, knowing that my words could send many to their death.”

“I see.” Isildur looked away. “That’s it then. That was the only reason.”

Giminzil thought the man looked disappointed. What had he expected to hear, she wondered. But there was no more time to talk.

“We need to move quickly. As soon as they find the prisoners missing, they will be looking for us.” Abrazan pulled over next to Giminzil.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a ship waiting in Romenna. I am going to take those people who are willing to come with me and leave these shores.”

It was late afternoon when they arrived at Romenna. Except for two young couple who wanted to stay, the rest of the prisoners opted to follow Abrazan to Middle Earth. Most of them had everything taken from them and had nothing to keep them here.

To make sure they did not attract attention, they divided into small groups and were led down to a small cove hidden from the port of Romenna. Abrazan’s ship lay hidden behind the coastal cliffs.

“We just sent a signal. They should be sending a boat for us.” Abrazan said. “Rest for now, but be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.” He went up into the high place accompanied by another man.

Giminzil turned to Isildur. “How about you? Are you coming? Please tell me you will be coming, too.”

Isildur shook his head sadly. “My hope lives still with this land.”

Something in her heart tore and bled. “Even after all that they are doing? How could you still have hope when so much has gone wrong? When so much has been taken?”

Giminzil shivered. The rebels they took away to burn at the temple were just another people, people who believed differently. And some of them were just children.

“Will I see you again?" Giminzil asked. Her heart tightened suddenly at the thought of it. She was certain that she was never coming back to Anadune again. "Will you come, maybe not today, but someday?”

“Does it matter to you?” Isildur’s eyes which had been dark gray took in a silver light.

Giminzil nodded.

“Then, do not go,” he said and took hold of her hands. “I know it may seem as if the world is turning dark, dangerous, and destructive, but if there are still those of us who hope, isn’t this world of ours still worth fighting for? Will you not have hope and stay with me? If you will trust me, I will protect you and keep you safe. And in time, if your heart is willing, if you will allow it, I would like to stay by your side always. For in your hands, I have left my heart the last time I saw you.”

Giminzil’s heart thumped. She could feel her cheeks sear. But she wasn’t sure.

“But, having hope, is it enough?"

“It is what we need to have when the times are at its darkest. Elves have two words for it. One is called ‘amdir’ which means ‘looking up’ and the other is called ‘estel’ which means ‘trust.’ It means to have faith in Eru. We are his children. As children, sometimes we do not understand His design. But having hope is to look up, think positively and trust that His design is for our joy and believe that He will not allow us to fall into the utter darkness. Instead of despair, we need to walk the path that is given to us. Do our part and try our best not to go astray. And, do you not see Eru was watching? Think about it, Silme. Do you think my finding you in that chamber just a mere coincidence? Why were you there that night? Why that chamber when I could have climbed the other one? Or you could have come an hour earlier and left before I got there. Yet, you and I met." 

Giminzil turned to look up at the western sky. The sun was setting, but in the west, the light still glowed bright white. She wondered whether she was able to steal that fruit from Lord Zigur because Eru had meant for it to happen. Was there really a bigger design beyond what she could see?

“The boats are here,” Abrazan ran past her to the water where two boats approached.

The man who had been standing on the top of the cliff as a look-out shouted as he ran down. “Soldiers! There’s many hooves coming from the direction of Armenelos!”

“My lord,” one of the two armed men who remained with the horses approached Isildur. “We need to leave here before we can be seen.”

The people were up now and running to the two boats rowing closer to the shore.

“Please, Silmë. Stay with me.” Isildur offered his hand. 

“Perhaps, you could teach me more about ‘amdir’ and ‘estel.’”

Giminzil laid her hand on Isildur’s outstretched hand. Isildur smiled widely then pulled her into his cape, wrapping her in its warmth.

* * *

 **A/N:** This discussion of hope in two Elvish words is a part of the conversation between Finrod and Andreth among the Tolkien's work called Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth (Part 4 of Morgoth's Ring)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is bit rushed, but I ran of time. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


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